Where Jack Frost Attempts to Ask the Snow Queen to Prom
by SharKohen
Summary: ... but doesn't quite succeed. They barely know each other! Still, he's quite determined to try anyway, and she's quite determined to be annoyed about it. After all, it's the most overpriced event of the year! What's not to love? Modern High School AU. Some Rise of The Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons characters mentioned. Warning: Quirky writing ahead.
1. Chapter 1

Where Jack Frost Attempts to Ask the Snow Queen to Prom but Doesn't Quite Succeed

* * *

 **This is not typically the type of things I write, but I've been down recently so I wanted to write something sort of cheesy to cheer me up, and what's cheesier than a Modern High School AU?**

 **Admittedly, this ended up being more quirky than cheesy.**

 **This is actually Jelsa – surprise! Well, my idea of Jelsa.**

 **This was meant to be a one-shot, but since I've a tendency to write long things, I'm hoping that it would end as a two-shot.**

 **A great deal of reference to Rise of The Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons material ahead, but they're not that important.**

* * *

Act 1: Where Our Hero was Clearly an Idiot

You might be scratching your head after the reading the subtitle, wondering why exactly our hero was an idiot and why he was clearly so. Let me enlighten you.

Firstly, he was wearing a hoodie. A _hoodie_. A faded, ragged hoodie that he hadn't washed for the last five days.

It wasn't that he was lazy, or that he loved dirt. It was just that the hoodie was such a favorite of his that he wore it nearly twenty four-seven. To spend a second without it would immediately result in him being launched into what his friends called 'hoodie-withdrawal'. This would sometimes consist of him sitting cross-legged in front of the laundry machine and sighing heavily to himself every five minutes, then hanging it outside to dry and sighing again at the same intervals. This oddity of behavior had been documented by one E. Aster Bunnymund a.k.a. our hero's roommate, who had on occasionally threatened to upload footage of such online when our hero refused to dump his clothes on his side of their shared dorm room.

Secondly, it was a beautiful, sunny spring day.

Now, you might think that popping a question (no, not the 'will you marry me?', but a much less important question with much less commitment and expenses that silly teenagers ask each other) to the most gorgeous girl in the school on the most gorgeous day in the year might be appropriate, except for teeny, tiny detail. She's the 'Snow Queen'.

The label that her peers had stuck onto her had been stuck onto her for a reason. She liked winter, not spring. So on spring days, while people would be frolicking in the park and playing sports, she would be hiding in the library, pretending to build frozen castles in the air and waiting anxiously for winter to come round again. Obviously, she was not in a good mood right now.

Thirdly, she had no idea who he was. They shared two classes, but it didn't mean that she had ever acknowledged his existence. In a matter of fact, she rarely acknowledged anyone else's existence unless they had offended her or she needed something from them. Her frosty manner was the second reasom for her nickname - as cold as the snow and as haughty as a Queen. That alone should have tipped him off of how impossible his task was going to be.

Our hero was undaunted despite all these reasons. Therefore, we have no choice but to conclude that only he was an idiot, but that he was _undoubtedly, irrevocably_ and _completely_ an idiot.

On this gorgeous, beautiful spring day, he approached her with his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. His toothpaste-commercial perfect teeth gleamed as he grinned, full of moronic optimism and the steps he took were so light that it might even be said that he was flying.

She, on the hand, was already frowning. The library was closed right now this early in the morning and some idiot had locked up all the study rooms, making it inaccessible. She was forced to bathe herself in the light of the rising sun as hiding herself in the shade of an oak tree proved quite impossible. Seated straight upright on the bench, she was diligently, though irately, pouring through the unabridged text of _Pride and Prejudice_ while printing neat notes into the notebook balanced on her knee.

Her head was still bent down in concentration when he stood right in front of her, so our hero cleared his throat. "Ahem."

She didn't hear it, or perhaps she pretended not to, because she didn't respond.

Jack sucked in a breath, and cleared his throat again, louder this time. "AHEM."

Her eyes lifted up to him – those beautiful eyes so deep, so bright that he could write sonnets about them, if, well, he didn't suck so terribly at poetry. Her brows drew themselves together. "Can I help you?"

And here comes the fourth issue - the presentation of the question. He drew himself up straight, putting on his most adorable smile –as certified by his friends, well, the _kinder_ friends at least – and asked, "Will you go to Prom with me?"

She stared at him hard as he had suddenly grown three-heads. "Excuse me?"

"Prom. Promenade. You know, the formal dance thing that school has every year for seniors," he elaborated, his smile fading a little. Still, he summoned all the confidence he could muster and asked again, "Will you go with me?"

She leaned her head to the side to give him a thorough look-over, then said with an incredulous expression, "I don't even know who you are."

"Yes, you do," he contradicted – a bad move that he didn't take notice of. It made her frown harder. "We have chemistry and math together. I'm Jack Frost."

"Jack … Frost," she repeated slowly, her countenance scrunched as she tried to recall this name. After five seconds, she gave up. "Sorry, I have no recollection of you."

"That's fine." He shrugged nonchalantly. He knew that she wasn't the most sociable of people, so he instantly forgave her. He returned to the more important subject. "So, will you go to Prom with me?"

She considered him silently for a few moments. Then – "No."

He was taken aback. I honestly don't know why he was. He should have seen this coming four reasons ago!

He opened his mouth to ask, "But why-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No."

"You haven't even allowed me to-"

"No." She propped the book up in her lap. "Goodbye."

She continued reading as he continued to stand down there, mouth hanging open. Somehow, he never really considered rejection.

He left with a sigh. It was as if this was a hoodie-withdrawal day.

Our hero, without doubt, was an idiot.

* * *

Act 2: Where Our Hero moaned about the Unfairness of Life and The Roommate was quite unsympathetic

"My life sucks."

"Get over it."

Jack didn't sit himself up on the his bed. He merely glanced over to the other boy, who was still absorbed in painting a tray of boiled eggs. Bunnymund, who preferred to called by his last name rather than his first (Jack was still in the process of finding out what 'E' in 'E. Aster Bunnymund' was in order to find blackmail material of his own) was a muscular athlete almost a head taller than Jack, whose hobbies included Taichi, Chocolate tasting and Egg-painting – a rather odd combination that made him a rather odd person.

"Why did you even ask her anyway?" his roommate asked as he swapped the thick brush for a smaller one. This he then dipped into the palette before beginning his illustration on its surface.

Jack sighed. "Because I like her."

"You don't even know anything about her," Bunnymund pointed out. "How can you like someone you barely know?"

The boy pushed himself off the bed, ready to make a retort, but then he thought about it. He then shut his mouth and plopped himself down on the bed, admitting, "Good point."

"Now, stop moping and do something with your life," the Australian student said, sitting the painted egg back in the egg box before removing another to paint.

Jack idly ran a hand through his white locks. It wasn't actually dyed – just a weird genetic disorder that he had. He pondered hard over this dilemma. Then inspiration struck him.

"I have a plan!" he announced triumphantly, punching his fist up in the air.

Bunnymund sniffed apathetically. "Sure ya' do."

* * *

Act 3: Where Our Hero sought Knowledge from A Dreary Insider

She was the ex-girlfriend of Hans, who was the current president of the historical society, of which Hiccup used to be a part of but quit and founded the Viking appreciation club, of which Astrid had joined, who had once gotten in a fight with Merida in the corridor, who used to share detention with Flynn, who once played a prank on Bunnymund and got in huge trouble for it.

Obviously, they were totally mutual acquaintances.

"I have no idea who you are," the girl said flatly. Both of them were sitting across each other in the canteen, after Anna – a.k.a. sister of the target - had been cornered by our hero into this position earlier on.

"Sure, you do," Jack insisted, unconsciously pressing against his own tray as he spoke. "I just told you how we should know each other."

"Really, I've never even heard of you," the girl said, taking a sip from her packet of orange juice, then made a face. She pushed the tray of canteen food away from herself, scrunching up her nose. "Okay, that's it. I officially can't stand this food." She sighed, resting her head on her arm as she gazed longing at Jack's tray. More accurately, Jack's sandwich.

The boy noted where her eye rested on, and with an inward growl of frustration, he picked up the sandwich and held it out to the girl. She eyed him with surprise, glancing at him, then back at the proffered food item.

"Just tell one thing that your sister likes," he said, waving the sandwich enticingly in front of her. "I just need one."

The girl tugged one of her braids for a moment as she thought. Then - "Chocolate."

She then swiped the sandwich from him, but it was okay, because Jack decided to steal the sandwich belonging to Astrid, who was sitting adjacent to him. This fiery tempered blonde then thought Merida stole it and decided to pick a fight with her.

To which Merida was totally okay with it and decided to fight back.

To which the two girls ended up punching each other black-and-blue while the rest of the canteen gathered around to watch, chanting 'Fight! Fight! Fight!'.

To which Flynn started taking bets for who was going to win.

After which, the Principal North came marching in, pulled them apart and hauled them off to detention.

After which, the head cleaner, Phil a.k.a. Yeti, grumbled about the mess the fight had left in the canteen as he came shuffling in with a mop.

After which, Jack just laughed, bit into his stolen sandwich and felt completely unrepentant.

After which, he heard a sharp snort of contempt.

He spun around and found himself staring straight at the Snow Queen herself, who appeared rather cross with him.

He gave her a small wave.

She frowned at him, straightened herself up and headed off for class, like the good girl she was.

* * *

Act 4: Where Our Hero had Not Learnt from Act 1

She glanced at her watch, because she's old-fashioned and priggish enough to actually wear a watch in an age where everyone else just checked their phones. She found such checking the phone as a practice impractical, for phones were very distracting especially when she was timing herself while doing practice papers, or when she wanted to time-keep her study time.

So for the above reasons, she found that watches were good enough to tell the time. Elsa had five minutes to go to her locker, go to the bathroom, hand-in her literature homework and reach class punctually. She had no time for conversations with strange white-haired boys, who thought themselves very charming just by the way they reclined themselves back on the locker doors, with their arms folded while flashing a dazzling smile.

And when she used the term 'dazzling', it was not meant to be a compliment. It was more akin to the sensation of having too much sun shining in your eyes until you wanted to rip out a machine gun and shoot it out of the sky.

"Hello there," he greeted her gleefully as she unlocked the metal door of her locker. "How are you this fine morning?"

"Why are you here?" she muttered to him, as she shoved the folders in her hands onto the shelves. She then removed all the necessary textbooks and reading material, comparing them to the mental timetable she stored in her head. Thanks to the slipperiness of her gloves, however, one file fell from her hands, slipping through her feet and skidding all the way to the other end of the hall.

Before she can move, he's already onto it - squeezing past all the other students, picking the file up and darting back her, producing the item with the enthusiasm of a dog returning a ball in a game of fetch.

Unlike an adoring, coddling pet-owner, however, Elsa was unamused.

"Thank you," she said curtly as she snatched the file back, adding it to her stack of things. With her shoulder, she slammed her locker shut. "Now, good day."

"Wait, I've got you- "

She zoomed straight past him. He left waving the chocolate bar helpless in the air.

Students nearby who had observed the scene look at him with a mixture of pity and incredulity. Merida took a video of him with her phone, made a GIF out of it and uploaded it online.

* * *

Act 5: A Reprise of Act 2

"Do you know that there's a viral video of you waving a chocolate bar according to the chorus of 'Don't Stop Believing'?"

Jack scowled, yanked his hood over his head hard. With his hands still tugging hard on the hoodie seams, he stared at the ceiling. "Why? What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"It's reaching over 100 shares already," Bunnymund continued to inform him, scrutinizing his laptop screen. "Still climbing."

The boy with white hair yanked the hood down harder and groaned. His roommate continued his web-browsing without sympathy, humming the ridiculously overplayed _Journey_ song as he did.

* * *

Act 6: Where Our Hero tried to Pry More Information From the Dreary Insider

"I think I need something better than chocolate. Something … something magical. What makes your sister happy?"

Anna didn't answer, continue to munch on the sandwich quietly.

"Um, hello?"

She took another mouthful of the sandwich.

Jack sighed, leaning back into his chair, folding at his arms. There were a couple of students sitting on the opposite bench casting glances his way and laughing. He was starting to wonder if it all was worth it.

But he had stayed invisible to her for so long. He had to try.

He turned his head back to the girl who was still chewing on the sandwich that he had given her. Sighing, he leaned forward, opening his palms in surrender towards her. "You got to help me out here."

"I don't know."

Jack's eyes widened, incredulous. This was what he gave up his lunch for? "What?"

"I don't know my sister that well, okay?" The bitterness injected in her words threw him off. "I mean, we had the same parents and everything, but that doesn't mean we actually talk to each other!" She dropped the sandwich and buried her face in her palms.

Oh, my – she's crying. Someone get a doctor. Or the ambulance. Or the fire brigade. There's a girl crying in front of him. _What to do? What to do? What to do?_

Jack glanced around him quickly. Luckily, no one had seemed to notice that he managed to make his hopefully-prom-date's sister cry, because, well, if hopefully-prom-date found out, he was deader than before.

"We haven't talked proper for the longest time," he heard Anna sniffle. Sniff. "We used to be so close. And then-" dissolving into a near incoherent babble "-when our parents died, it got worse. She just kept shutting me out." Sniff. Sniff.

Despite his discomfort in the situation, Jack did catch she said. Almost immediately, his frustration dissolved away and he felt his heart go towards her.

"I'm so sorry," he said with a surprising amount of sincerity. "I lost my parents too."

She paused her sobs, her crimson-stained eyes glancing up at him. "Oh, I'm so sorry 'bout that."

"It's okay." He didn't dare quite look at her. "I don't actually remember them. I don't -" unintentionally, his voice cracked "-actually remember a lot of things about my childhood."

"Why not?" the girl asked him, curious though still teary.

"Accident." He suddenly felt himself clamping up, as he always did when the topic came about. He pushed the chair back and got to his feet. "I've got to go."

"Oh, okay," Anna said, still looking at him in a rather peculiar manner, like a pilgrim who has suddenly found enlightenment.

He did just run off, and he didn't notice the blonde girl standing from the second level of the canteen, gazing down toward the lower floor where her weeping sister dried her eyes. Her eyes narrowed together.

* * *

Act 7: Where Inappropriate Behavior was not Limited to Our Hero

"What did you say to my sister!"

He had to give it to her. She had a strong arm. Must be all that book-carrying.

She stared at him for a long moment. Jack gulped. He said that aloud, didn't he?

Fortunately, Elsa ignored his comment, pinning him harder against the lockers, asking again, "Well? What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!" He defended himself. He certainly wasn't going to tell her that he was attempting to extract information from the enemy side.

"Oh, really?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him – beautiful, shimmering, sapphires of eyes, but still dangerous. Her volume of _Pride and Prejudice_ was still jabbing him in the Adam's apple. "Why was she crying then? Hmm?"

Something in him snapped. Hadn't he been patient? Hadn't he been nice? Why did she get to talk to him like that? "Well, maybe you're the reason why she cried? Hmmm?"

One of her perfectly trimmed brows rose. "Excuse me?"

"She told me all about how you guys don't talk much anymore, and how you used to be so close," he spat out, not even trying to conceal the fury bursting inside of him. He's normally much better at holding his temper than this, but there's something about this whole endeavor that had been eating him from the inside. "That's not the brightest, chirpiest relationship I've ever heard of."

The girl was taken aback by his answer, looking quite unsure for her usually stiff and steady self. "That's not-I don't-we-" she suddenly remembered who she was talking to and straightened herself up. "I don't have to tell you anything. I don't even know who you are."

"My name is Jack Frost! And I told you that before!" The boy pushed her book away and let out a growl of frustration. "What's the problem with you?"

"The problem with _me_?" Elsa drew herself up even taller, her expression contorted with cold disgust. "You're the one who keeps stalking me and bothering my family! Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Who just ignores their sister like that?" He went on with his rant as if she hadn't said anything. "Seriously, that's just mean!"

"This is none of your business," she hissed at him, her palms held up as if to shove him away, only for her to compose herself and fold her arms instead. Of course, she was the good girl. She was not allowed to act over top, even if she wanted to.

"Of course, it isn't. It's yours!" He jabbed a finger at her. "But I don't think you realize how much take for granted the great things you have. You don't how lucky you are to even _have_ family." That last bit was uttered more to himself, but she did hear it.

He tore himself away from her, stuffing his hands back into his coat pockets and eyeing her with resentment. She watched him trudge down the walkway, his white head held high and proud, unable to see the tears tittering at the brink of his eyelids.

Elsa herself took a moment to ponder the words that had been exchanged in haste, and wonder if perhaps there was merit in them. But if she dared to admit so, she kept it concealed. There was no evidence of it on the outside, not by her stately march nor by her hardened gaze.

* * *

Act 8: Where Our Hero talked to An Inanimate Object

"I think this is pointless. I can't do this. I don't know why I try so hard."

The plush rabbit didn't response. Its ear drooped by the side of its exaggeratedly large head, giving a melancholic air about it. Jack adjusted those floppy ears, trying to make them stand up, but gravity's pull was much stronger and by the deadpan the stuffed bunny was giving him, it was clear that it had no intention of appearing more cheerful.

Jack sighed, finally giving up, saying to the plush toy, "You definitely belong to Bunnymund. You're absolutely no fun. My sister's toys were always the happy sort."

If the plush toy could nod, Jack was sure that it would.

Just then, he heard the turning of the key. His roommate had returned, bearing in his arms various books and as usual, more paints for his eggs. "H'allo, Frost, how was-" The Australian trailed off as he noticed his plush toy sitting on Jack's bed, across the boy himself. "What are you doing with Mr. Hops?"

"We're just having a conversation with each other," Jack told him matter-of-factly. "Actually, we're quite done now. So I'll return him to you now." Taking up the plush bunny's hand, he shook it with a completely straight face. "Goodnights, Mr. Hops."

The white-haired boy got up, lifted the stuffed toy up from his bed and transferred it over to Bunnymund's. He then nodded formally to his roommate, who was staring at him as if he had a head of donkey. Even after Jack had left the room, the Australian student could not help but feel extremely disturbed.

"Why do I always get the weird roommates?" he asked to no one in particular, even as he began to decorate one boiled egg with a carnation motif.

Mr. Hops just stared at him with complete apathy.

* * *

Act 9: Where Our Heroine Contemplated The Possibility of Her Error

There was rapping on the door. "Elsa? Can I come in?"

She didn't answer, because she had her head was buried in the books. Her roommate was out – thank goodness, for Merida was the epitome of 'coarse and unrefined' and very poor study mate – which left her alone with her mountains of study material. Not that Elsa minded studying – oh, no, she didn't. It was a safe, unexciting, repetitive activity that kept her temper calm and her attention occupied. Studying about reality was the best way to ignore reality.

"Elsa?"

It was unfortunate that she had forgotten to reply the first time, for Anna had decided to take her silence for consent and came in. The blonde girl kept her head down, her eyes glued firmly to the pages that she turned, her hand firmly jotting down the necessary notes.

"Hey," she heard Anna say in a light, cheery voice – laced with nervousness though. "Sorry, am I disturbing anything?"

"No," Elsa answered, still focused on her work. "You're not disturbing anything at-" she glanced at the textbook, then at the handout, before scribbling down her own answer down "-all."

"Oh, okay." Anna didn't sound completely convinced, but she sucked in a breath and then said in a chirpy manner, "So, some friends and I are going out to get supper. Y-you want to come?"

Elsa didn't even need to think very much about it. "No."

"Oh, alright then." The energy seemed to have gone out of Anna's voice. "Um, oh, yeah, I wanted to ask. Are you going to Prom with anyone?"

At this, the blonde girl had to reply with much more feeling, "No. Goodness, no!" She spun her chair around to face her sister. "Why?"

"Oh, 'cause Hans was supposed to take me, but then we broke up, but I still kinda reserved two tickets, and since I'm underclassman, I can't go without a date," her sister rattled on, twisting her fingers in her palms awkwardly. "So I'm kinda not sure what I should do with my tickets, whether I should sell them, or give them away, so I was wondering if you wanted-"

"I don't want your tickets, Anna," Elsa interrupted her, contempt evident in expression. "In a matter of fact, I'm not going to prom alone or with anyone. I think the whole thing altogether is just a silly distraction from the finals. They're only one month apart, you know."

"Oh." Anna was definitely deflated by now. She glanced at Elsa, then at the pile of work that the girl had. "Um, I'll, um, leave you to studying then."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

After the door was closed once again and Elsa was able return to her books and pages, it occurred to her for the first time in a long time that her treatment of her sister was perhaps a little, or perhaps, very curt. She frowned at the books that lay before her. She had always been the more studious one between both of them, more out of necessity rather than enjoyment of it.

Whereas Anna was more the type to live on the fly, Elsa required plans, contingencies and back-ups. The way she saw it, the world was turning steadily hurtling towards its own destruction, the crash of the economy was persistently imminent and the progress of the world would not wait for those who sniff the daisies. To fight the world, one had to prepare oneself for battle, and preparation was done by arming oneself with knowledge, training and achievements.

Anna didn't understand, of course. Exams were secondary to more important things like making friends that she would eventually lose, seeking love that she would also lose (had already lost, Elsa amended in her mind) and finding happiness, fun and laughter which she also one day would lose. Their differences in priorities had been what made them fall apart so easily in their growing years.

Elsa frowned, the events of that afternoon playing in her head - Anna crying, the white-haired stalker hollering at her… She had only ever had one sibling in her life, so she wasn't sure if her relationship with Anna really had problems, or if this was a normal phenomenon. Surely, all siblings grew more distant as they grow up, didn't they?

There was a knock on the door. Half-hoping that it was her sister, Elsa called out, "Come in."

The door swung open and Elsa spun her chair back around. She frowned. It was not Anna.

"This really needs to stop," she told him, folding her arms at him.

"Won't you just chill for a sec?" The intruder raised his hands in surrender. "I haven't even done anything yet. Look, all I want to do is give you this chocolate bar, okay?" He removed the said snack from his coat pocket and showed it to her. "I bought this for you, and I hate chocolate, and really don't want to give it to my roommate – who, by the way, adores chocolate - so please take it."

She peered at the offering with suspicion, then glanced up at him.

He rolled his eyes. "It's not poisoned. Or drugged. Or made of PlayDough."

After a silent moment, she reached her hand out, and took the chocolate bar. It didn't explode in her hands, so she took that as a good omen.

"You know," she heard him say, "food tastes better when shared."

Elsa cocked her head towards him, curious.

He ran a hand through snowy locks as he added, "Just figured you should think about that. You're all she has, really, and she you."

There was a part of her that wanted to snap at him, to tell him to mind his own business, but upon examining his mien, she couldn't help but feel that there was some sincerity in the action. A peculiar trait she would associate with one this annoying.

So Elsa told him, "Thank you."

He nodded with a tight smile, pulled the door open and exited her room.

The girl spent a few seconds toying with the chocolate and thinking about what he said when the door suddenly swung ajar. He poked his head through the gap.

"By the way," he said, solemnity gone and cheeky grin back, "will you to go prom with me?"

She stared down hard him. He just stared back.

Seeing that he refused to accept her non-verbal answer, she sighed and said, "No."

He blinked at her for a few seconds, then said in an oddly cheerful voice, "Okay! See you tomorrow!"

With that, the door was shut once more and she was finally left alone. She had to admit, his response to her dismissal was better than she had expected.

Elsa placed his gift on the side of her table, feeling strangely warm. She could feel a stirring of emotions inside her – an occurrence that she had a habit of suppressing, except that this time she wondered if she should suppress it at all. After all, he was right. Anna was really all she had.

Then, it struck her. What did he mean by 'see you tomorrow'?

And then the good feeling was gone and Elsa groaned, burying her face in her palms.

* * *

 **My knowledge of American High Schools is very limited, to forgive me if I get the details of Prom and etc. wrong. It's not supposed to be a very clever story…**

 **Reviews would be much appreciated. Questions are welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So much for two chapters. Now I'm predicting that this may hit like … seven chapters. I wasn't supposed to have any plans for this. I mean – look at it! I can barely take it seriously.**

 **That's said, it's lot of fun to write.**

 **Quirkiness ahead.**

* * *

Act 10: Where Meaning was Ripped Apart, then Stuck Back with Glue, then Discard for Other Things

"Will you go to Prom with me?"

"No."

She was at exactly the same spot again, studying exactly the same book under the same horrid sun, being asked exactly the same question and giving exactly the same answer. The only difference was the response.

She heard a light-hearted chuckle. "Okay."

Elsa raised her head, surprised by this reaction. She was even more surprised when she noted that he had taken a seat next to her on the bench. On his lap, he had his own worksheets and writing pad, as well as a pencil case which he had strapped to his arm ( _childish, unfashionable, but practical,_ she admitted in her mind). He removed a pen from his case and began to write, referencing to the worksheet as he did.

She stared at him for exactly three minutes (she knew, because she checked), before she asked, "What are you doing?"

"Studying," he answered promptly – eagerly, almost as if he had been waiting for that very question. He nodded to the book in her hands. "Like you."

Elsa raised a brow at him, but he didn't see it, because he directed his own gaze back to the foolscap and began solving a complex sum. She then said, "Can't you study somewhere else?"

He looked up at her, then gazed at their surroundings, at the lush green lawn where other students were lolling around in the morning, then to the rows of other empty benches around the courtyard – benches that actually had tables, so that he didn't need hunch himself over to write.

Then, he told her without a flinch, "Nope."

He returned to working.

At this time, suspicion began to swell in Elsa's mind and she stared at her uninvited companion more intently. If he felt her eyes burning into him, he did a good job of not letting it show. He had already completed on the first two questions of the list, and now began on his third.

Unable to take it any longer, she said, "I know what you're doing."

"What-what-" he scribbled a few symbols down before raising his head "-sorry, what am I doing?"

"You're going to sit down there until I say 'yes', aren't you?" When he didn't reply, Elsa went on, "Well, it won't work. It might surprise your small, undeveloped masculine brain, but when a girl says 'no', she really does mean 'no'."

"Really?" He didn't lift his head, but there was a small smile stretching onto his lips, threatening to burst into a full grin. "How do you really know when you're saying 'no'?"

"What do you mean?" She scrunched her face up at him. "Of course I know when I'm saying 'no'. How can I not know? It's coming straight of my mouth."

"Well, really simple, actually." Oh, there it was – that cheeky grin. Like the horrible sun rising up from the looming horizon, threatening ruin the rest of her day with its sunbeams. "You can _not_ say 'no' by saying 'yes'."

Elsa rolled her eyes at him. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh?" His head was raised now, his blue eyes gleaming at her – blue eyes that warned of imminent and undesired mischief. "I thought you were in the habit of saying what you mean. But, really-" he went on before she could retort "- if you say one thing and the person you're speaking to interprets it in another way, then who really knows what's really being said? The person speaking, or the person hearing? I mean, communication is a two-party thing. Perhaps one person says something, but the interpretation of it by the hearer different from his intention, but could still an valid interpretation, then what was said could very well also be what interpreted, as per the hearer, as well as that of sayer. In then case, what was really said does not having a single meaning, but two – what was intended by the sayer and what interpreted by the hearer. Therefore-" he pointed his pen at her dramatically "-what you intended to convey when you said 'no' is as a valid meaning of what you had conveyed as much as my interpretation of it."

Elsa gave him a long look, before saying very slowly, "Do you have any idea what you just said?"

Jack shrugged nonchalantly, lowering his pen. "Nope."

"Well, here's a word that I can teach you for it." She grabbed his pen from him, then pulled herself over to scrawl a word on his worksheet, right over his completed sums. She then handed the pen back to him, feeling a bit smug. "It means 'words which have no meaning', which you, without doubt, must have ample supply of."

Reveling in her victory, Elsa was actually smirking a little as she returned to bury her head in back into the Victorian goodness that was _Pride and Prejudice_.

Until, nauseatingly bright and cheerful - "Will you go to Prom with me?"

"NO!"

* * *

Act 11: Where the Glass was Protested to be Half-Full when it was Clearly Half-Empty

"Hey, Bunnymund!"

The Australian student scowled upon recognition of the voice. Considering how much time he had to spend with his roommate in after-hours, he preferred not to over-interact with Jack during school time.

Being the polite fellow, he lifted his head from his laptop, turned to the white-haired boy and growled through clenched teeth, "WHAT?"

The boy was completely unfazed. "Look!" Bunnymund found a piece of foolscap being shoved into his face. "She wrote me a note!"

It took him a moment to read the scrawled writing before Bunnymund remarked, gazing critically at his roommate, "She wrote 'Balderdash'. Do you know what that means?"

Jack made a huff of annoyance. "Of course I know what it means! But look!" He jabbed at the paper, grinning so gleefully that Bunnymund was tempted to punch it off. "We're communicating!"

"If a girl writes 'Balderdash' on a piece of paper to you, I think it's safe to assume that you are _not_ actually communicating," Bunnymund deadpanned. "Especially if she thinks whatever you say is just, well, _balderdash_."

But no, the white-haired boy refused to see it the right way. "Hey, at least she's talking to me. It's better than being ignored."

"In that case,-" the Australian boy craned his neck forward to the laptop screen, turning pointedly away from his roommate "-I'm going to ignore you now."

* * *

Act 12: Where the Heroine's Plan took a One-Way to Rubbish Land along with The Confectionary

When the break bell rang, Elsa was uncharacteristically nervous. Well, to be fair, she actually did have a habit of being nervous for numerous things, but she was usually much better at hiding it. Upon exiting her own classroom, she pushed her way through the throng of students, politely but firmly asking people to move away. Most who recognized her steered clear of her path – after all, it was said that offending the Snow Queen was as deadly as waking a grizzly bear in hibernation.

In her chest, the beat of her heart was especially distinct in her mind, despite he chatter that flooded around her. She was not used to initiating any form of conversation, even less a conversation that would lead to even _more_ conversation. Words, which flowed so naturally from her pen, had a habit of sticking themselves to her throat. Nonetheless, she took one glance at the chocolate bar that sat on the top of books she carried and resolve flooded her once more. That cheeky white-haired irritant, for all his intolerable antics, was right in one thing – she should do more to connect to her sister.

So here was her plan – her haphazard, reckless, absolutely dangerous, deadly plan:

To have lunch with her sister. This was obviously a task of great difficulty and even in her mind, Elsa vaguely compared it to the labors of Heracles.

As she descended the staircase leading to the classroom, she caught sight of Anna standing right at the bottom of the steps. That was certainly serendipitous.

The presence of redheaded boy standing next to her, however, was not.

Elsa watched in horror as Anna accepted the bouquet of roses from the senior student – the ex-boyfriend who had just sent her into a fit of bawling for two whole hours and decrying the validity of true love (Elsa didn't actually witness this herself, but heard it from Merida who heard it from Flynn, who it heard from Rapunzel, who was her roommate). This was the person that Anna directed her blushing gaze to now. This was the cad that she tiptoed on the balls of her feet to kiss.

And suddenly, all the warmth that she had building in her heart was blown away, and the Snow Queen frosted all over.

Marching over determinedly down steps, cutting a line through the students who were ascending the stairs, Elsa was arrived at the bottom just in time for Anna to break away from Hans, who now gazed at her adoringly when a mere day ago he dismissed her a sneer. The younger girl turned to her sister, and completely oblivious to rising fury, met her with a wave and cheer, "Elsa! Guess what?"

The blonde girl didn't miss the beat. "Hans and you are back together again and he's taking you to Prom?" She peered skeptically at the redheaded senior, whose soft gaze had hardened upon her arrival.

"Well, yes!" Anna was clearly very excited – wrongly excited. She thrust the bouquet towards her sister's face, making Elsa flinch back in surprise. "Look at what he bought me!"

"Yes," the elder girl battered this away with the chocolate bar – the same chocolate bar which she was supposed to use as some sort of 'emotional- connector-thingamajig' to her sister – before saying quite coolly, "Anna, may I speak to you? In private?"

Unfortunately, the brunette girl in twin braids, though dense, was not stupid. Anna had noted the change in tone, so instead of agreeing, she clung to her date's arm more, holding more tightly towards herself. "No. Whatever you want to say, you can say to us."

This answer took Elsa surprise. She was not used to her sister asserting herself, especially towards herself. Her coldness only became colder.

"Very well." She drew herself to her full height. "You do _not_ get back together with ex-boyfriends, who had called you – quote - _'stupid, naïve and desperate'_ – unquote - especially if they had once flirted with your sister in order to steal her research work."

"Excuse me!"

"For the record, I did not steal your research work!"

"Oh, please." Elsa glared at the redhead boy, who looked very indignant – falsely, she thought. "Don't think I don't know it wasn't you, because I do."

"You don't have proof of that," the boy scoffed at her, tugging his arm away from Anna that moment to fold his arms together, earning a surprised look from his newly regained 'girlfriend'. "Besides, I think you're just jealous that your sister has someone else to share her life, with while you live it alone – as a sour, frosted, old hag."

Elsa frowned – not the irritated, exasperated frown she used often Anna, but the deep-seated, gut-gnawing frown that she used only the highest of offenses. She took a threatening step towards the proud redhead, only for Anna to step in front of him, shielding this useless, vile, insolent creep from her sister's wrath.

But wrath, deflected or defended against, was still wrath. Elsa glared down at the pig-tailed girl and said, her manner tight and rigid, "Mark my words, Anna. You'll regret this."

Not waiting for the girl to reply, the Snow Queen swept herself away, walking rigidly away. The chocolate bar went straight to the bin, as did the plans for lunch. Only when the blonde girl was seated alone on her usual dining spot, one that only a fool would dare to cross, did she feel a pang of remorse in her heart. But by the time she glanced back down to the lower floor of the canteen, Anna was already sitting side by side with her 'true love', blowing kisses to each other while eating sandwiches. Elsa could barely keep the bile from rising up her throat.

Anna and her choices. Her very poor choices.

Elsa had never truly feared being alone, so returning to that state had never bothered her anyway. But she could not help but feel as if she had just slammed shut a door and opportunity might not come knockin' back around anytime soon.

* * *

Act 13: Where Everyone just kept Talking In the Library when the Word 'Library' itself should have Automatically Inspired Silence (These guys. Really…)

"Hey! Fancy you studying in the library too."

"Not now, Jack."

His face brightened. "You actually remembered my name!"

She didn't even look at him. She didn't even look at the book that was laid out in front of her. Her eyes were just glued morosely to the window-ledge of the library window. He looked at that particular window-ledge hard for a moment, then told her in a soft voice, "I don't see it."

This got a crooked brow from her. "See what?"

"What's so great about Neo-Baroque architecture, that's what!" Jack said with exaggerated passion. "Why is there a need for a school to build itself in a manner that has been outdated for a reason? It's kind of stupid, don't you think? We can't we just build ugly, weird buildings in abstract forms and made from environmentally-friendly products?"

He waited for a scathing remark, or a scornful contradiction, or even a dismissive sniff, but all he got was silence. When Jack looked at her again, she was still staring into space, no more happy or upset than she was a few seconds ago.

Sighing, he sat himself next to her, dropping his arms on the table. "Care to share?"

"Not really," was her stiff answer.

"It's to do with your sister."

"We're not talking about this."

"Did you do the chocolate thing?"

"None of your business."

"Well, why didn't you? Unless you chickened out, or … you guys fought."

"I'm not going to deny or confirm anything."

"Why did you guys fight over? Studies? Relationships? Boys? It's totally boys."

"Stop it."

"It's not you, because you're not in any relationships A.T.M.," he mused aloud, not ignoring her low growl. "So it's your sister. It's a relationship you don't approve of." The blonde girl was giving him a sidelong look, so he decided to check. "Am I right?"

"How did you do that?" she asked, seeming a little less fierce now that he had her distracted.

He shrugged. "I guessed." When she continued to stare at him, he then re-emphasised, "I mean it. I just guessed it. Your life isn't honestly that interesting, you know. Vaguely chick-flick material."

"Oh, is it?" There were warning signs all her face – tightened jaw, narrowing brows, eyes turning into slits.

"Yeah, you know how-" Jack cut himself off when he noticed the hostility in her expression. Quickly changing the subject - "Anyway, um, why don't approve of him?"

"Because he's a sly, conniving little _cheat_ ," she murmured, sounding more vindictive than usual. The pen in her hand was squeezed tightly as she curled her fingers into a ball, as if she was pretending that it was the person on her mind. "Anna just refuses to see that, even after he'd hurt her."

"Did you try talking to her?" the boy asked.

"I did. We didn't even fight properly. Hans just called me names and dragged her off. Anna didn't stop him." She shook her head, flipping a page in her book roughly for emphasis. "It's ridiculous."

"Maybe you shouldn't have been so fierce to her," Jack murmured. It was actually personal note, but he had uttered it louder than he had meant to, thus earning a quizzical glance from her. "I guessed that too. I'm pretty good at guessing things to."

"I was trying to make a point," the girl excused herself vehemently. "And I wasn't fierce. I was, well, I was -"

"Harsh? Cool? Nasty?"

Her face turned dark. "You're not helping."

"Look," he combed a hand through his white locks as he thought of how better to phrase himself, "you and your sister aren't exactly in the peachiest of relationships. If you want to approach her, you need to do it with more … sugar."

"Sugar?" she repeated, looking at him as if he was going around the bend.

"Yep," Jack confirmed. "A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. It would also probably cause type two diabetes -" he mused as an afterthought "-but you get the gist."

The girl took to his words with a dubious expression, so intense that he could almost hear the cogs in her head turning.

"Hey," he said in a kind voice, a rare side of himself that he hardly showed. Well, he used to show it a lot more when it was worth it, but that time had passed. "Love precedes transformation. People don't care about how much you know until you know how much you care."

"That sounds like some kind of mantra for a service industry," she said, a small smile creeping onto her lips unintentionally. In a matter of fact, Jack's almost certain that this was the first time she really smiled at him – not a mocking or polite smile, but a genuine smile.

"It is!" He beamed back. "It was on this poster at the hospital in the children's ward." The smile on his lips fell away, and with it all the cheer he had wilted away.

"What were you doing at the children's ward?" Elsa asked, sounding curious.

Fortunately, he didn't need to answer, because a third voice piped in, "It's really great that you guys are having some really deep conversation, but do you mind?"

Both of their necks were twisted around to find that on a couch behind them, a peeved blonde junior was peeling off his earphones. On his lap sat a history book, which had been unflipped for the last ten minutes and an empty notepad.

"This is the library," the younger student told them, not looking at all pleased. "People are trying to study here and your talking is very distracting."

"Yoohoo!" Another higher-pitched voice called from the librarian's desk. By the foreign accent, Jack was pretty certain it was Mr. Oaken on duty today. "Quie' down v'ere pur-leeze!"

"That's precisely what I've been telling these guys," the junior called back.

"V'hat?"

"That's precisely what I've been telling these guys!" he raised his voice, cupping a hand around his mouth to make it louder.

"V'HAT?"

"HE SAID 'THAT'S PRECISELY WHAT I'VE BEEN TELLING THESE GUYS'!" Jack shouted this time. "THAT'S IN REFERENCE TO US!" That got a dark look from Elsa. "UM, I MEAN ME! JUST ME!"

"HEY, SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE!" Another voice from behind the geography shelf. "PEOPLE ARE STUDYING HERE!"

"WHY DON'T _YOU_ SHUT UP?" The blonde junior who sat behind them on the couch seemed quite easily offended. "WE'RE NOT TALKING TO YOU!"

"OH, WELL, I CAN HEAR YOU LOUD AND CLEAR, AND IT'S VERY DISTRACTING!"

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST SHUT YOUR EARS THEN!" The junior was so sucked into his fury that he had leapt him to his feet. "YOU'RE SO GOOD AT GIVING OUT ADVICE, SO TAKE SOME YOURSELF!"

As much as Jack enjoyed a good fight as much as the next schadenfreud-ish student, he noted that Elsa seemed quite alarmed by the display. Unwillingly imbued with a spirit of chivalry, he kicked himself up to his feet, and went up to the shouting boy and just said, "Hey, I think that-"

"HEY, QUIET DOWN THERE!" A new voice came from beyond the literature section, three shelves away.

"HE STARTED IT!" The one beyond the geography section yelled.

"HE STARTED IT!" The blonde junior to pointed Jack.

"Hey!" Jack exclaimed, now upset. "That's mean."

"What? You guys were the ones who started talking first," the blonde junior snapped. He was at least half-a-head taller than the white-haired senior, who at this point was having second thoughts about saying anything at all.

"Well, I-I-I-" Jack couldn't actually think of anything smart to say. So he said in triumphant tone, "I can't think of anything smart to say!"

The tall hunk of the junior deadpanned at him. "Really? That's the best you can do?"

Jack sighed, deflated. "I can't think of a decent comeback under this much pressure."

"YOU KNOW THAT YOU GUYS ARE STILL IN MY HEARING PROXIMITY!" The person behind the geography session yelled.

"SHUT UP!" Both Jack and the other student shouted back.

"WHY _ME_ SHUT UP? WHY DON'T _YOU_ SHUT UP?"

"For your information,-" the piercing, quiet voice that interrupted the spat made both boys jump. Elsa had risen from her seat too, and now her cold gaze was directed to the one sitting in the geography section - who could not actually be seen through all the books, but it was presumable that she was addressing him -"it should be 'why _I_ shut up?' rather than 'why _me_ shut up?'. Presuming that you've left out the word 'should' in colloquial speech, and that the desired phrase to convey is 'why should I shut up?', then the removal of 'should' should result in the exclamation of the 'why I shut up?' But honestly, you should just leave the 'should' in. It's a lot clearer that way."

She then turned to the two other students and said with a perfectly straight face, "I'm sure we've quite enough off biting one another's heads, so let's all sit down and do our work like civilized people."

Feeling vaguely as he had been told that little green men from mars had invaded earth and have declared that the font _Arial_ was now illegal, Jack slowly sank himself back to his seat, not quite sure of what had just happened. Silence permeated the library like a dust bomb in a desert. He glanced over his shoulder at the blonde junior student, who still looked like he wanted to murder him but was too lazy to do so anymore, replacing his earphones in his ears and picking up his books. Jack then turned back to his own books, but could not help sneaking a peek at the blonde girl.

A surge of euphoria suddenly ran through him as he realized that she had, in her usual, frosty manner, saved him from a potential fight from the larger meaner student (someone should make it illegal for juniors to be taller than seniors. Life was hard enough already, _okay_?). She _saved_ him. She did something decent for him, and in a rather clever way too, if he might say so himself.

His face lit up.

"So," he shifted his chair closer to her, beaming like the cat that got the cream, "will you go to Prom with me?"

Elsa arched a brow at him. "Are you seriously still asking me that question?"

"Are you guys seriously still talking?" the blonde earphones guy behind them complained.

"REALLY? REALLY?" Violent book slamming from behind the geography section was heard along with a loud thud that suspiciously resembled the sound of study material behind thrown against the wall. "COULDN'T KEEP IT DOWN FOR A MINUTE, COULD YOU?" The gnashing of teeth was particularly prominent.

"GUYS, TONE IT DOWN!" The voice from the literature section came back.

"V'AT'S IT!" The high-pitched voice of Mr. Oaken echoed through the library.

In the end, the librarian threw them all out, closed the place and gave himself early off. All the students shuffled outside the doors in resentment, muttering curses and assorted obscene language, before finally lifting their feet up and moving off to find another place for them to pretend to study while banging their heads to the songs in their playlist. Our dearest hero did not quite participate in these activities, merely watching in silence as he watched the thin blonde girl walk away, books as always tucked under her arm. She did turn back once, presumably to straight out a crease in her skirt, but when she raised her head, her eyes were on him.

He smiled and waved at her.

She shook her head at him, but this time, she was smiling.

He watched her disappear around a corner, and he let out a happy sigh. If this was progress, he didn't what was.

"YOU! I should have known."

Jack whipped around and found himself face to face with his fuming roommate. Suddenly, the identity of the yeller from behind the geography shelf came to light. "Oh, Bunny. Hehe, did not expect to see you here."

The Australian cracked his knuckles. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

"Um, because,-" Jack's eyes zipped back and forth as he tried to make up an excuse, "-you'll have to put up with a worse roommate than me?"

Bunnymund considered this response, before finally answering, "Fair enough."

Jack let out a huff of relief. That was a close one.

"Still gon'na pummel you into the ground though."

And that's when our hero went tearing down the halls, fleeing desperately from the waving fists of his Australian roommate, while other students looked upon them, shook their heads in condescension and went back to playing Tertris on their phones.

All in all, it was fairly normal day.

* * *

Act 14: Where No One Actually Bought Anything from the Prom Booth

The afternoon sun was shining. The birds were singing. School was still on at full-steam.

Oh, and Prom ticket sales were on.

There was once upon time when people would stand in line for ages just to get buy their tickets, as if there was something magical about passing over their smelly twenty dollar bills in return for the flimsy paper that promised them a night of dreams, magic and other assorted false promises (batteries not included). Nowadays, the Prom committee tried to cut down on the administration work by putting in as much work as possible online and getting people to book their tickets in groups to avoid service-time a time and leg work.

That said, there were always those idiots who just couldn't make up their mind about whether or not they wanted to go to Prom and didn't want to reserve their tickets online. So they needed a special little booth for them to stare at for long periods of time, stroke their chins before walking forward to fork over their money, only to step back in hesitation, than stare at the booth board again, and the cycle repeated itself.

The task of manning this glorified Prom billboard came under the jurisdiction of one Toothiana 'Tooth' Kadni, who was humming to herself as she scrolled through an assortment of fanfiction on her laptop while sipping her peppermint tea. She was part of the main organizing committee, so technically she was supposed to be doing more important things like calling up suppliers and writing sponsorship letters, but she was rather tired of all this and deciding a little skiving couldn't hurt. Besides, all her potential customers, still hovering uncertainly at a respectable seven feet away from the counter, had not yet made up their minds.

"Tooth!"

The girl jumped at the sound of her nickname as she quickly switched her screen back to Excel sheet that she was supposed to be looking it, only to discover that the alarm had been unneeded. "Jack? Why, whatever's the matter?"

The boy was panting quite heavily. He flopped himself over the booth table, covering his face with one arm and almost knocking over the decorative board with his other. Tooth, being quite familiar with her friend's antic, knew that the problem probably not an urgent one, but just some mole-hill that Jack had blown into a mountain.

She poked a finger into his ribs. "Alright. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Everything." His voice was muffled in his arm. Then he raised his head. "Okay, kidding. Just that Bunnymund wants to kill me."

"Well, that's really not much of a surprise." Relieved that the problem was really as unremarkable as she had guessed, Tooth returned to her mindless browsing of her favorite ships and brooding on whether to pass or read the next title that came under her mouse.

"No, it's like really, really bad," the white-haired boy went on to explain, propping himself up on the table by his elbows. "He's been threatening to throw me into the trash for the last hour. That's only after he strangles me, drops me into a pot of boiling chocolate and disseminate my molecules."

"Has he done it yet?" Tooth asked in the very epitome of calm.

"Duh, no. Of course not. I'm too fast for him to catch," Jack boasted cockily.

Then an all too familiar voice boomed through the corridor. "FROST!"

"Uh-oh." Shoving himself forward, Jack dived under the table, scrambling behind the fabric covering the booth and hiding himself there. When Bunnymund burst through the doors, fury screaming out from how he clenched his fists and the creases on his forehead. Tooth's was the first familiar face he saw in the vicinity, so he rushed towards her. She could almost see fumes pouring out of his flaring nostrils.

He got straight to the point. "Have you seen Jack?"

Tooth took a moment to craft her answer. "I did see him just now."

"Where did he go?"

"He was running towards the central courtyard," she said with a smile. It was not entirely untrue. Jack might have been running towards the courtyard previously before he took a pit-stop at the Prom booth. "Prom tickets for you?"

Bunnymund only grunted in reply, dashing off in search for his foe and disappearing from her line of sight.

Tooth heard Jack's voice waft warily up to her. "Is he gone?"

"Yep." She held the cloth up for him as he cautiously crawled out from his hiding spot. "What did you do to irritate him this time?"

"The usual – exist." Jack pulled a face. "That guy takes things way too seriously, and it wasn't even on purpose." Readjusting his blue hoodie over his torso, he told her, "I really, really need some blackmail material."

Tooth raised a brow at him. "Why?"

"Because we live in the same dorm, so he's gon'na catch with me eventually. I need something to hang over his head." The boy rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. He then turned his gaze to Tooth. "Well?"

"Well, what?" she said in response, still slightly puzzled.

"Can't you help? You grew up with him. You have to know some of his secrets."

"Both of you are my friends, Jack," the girl answered, with a slight role of her eyes. "I shouldn't be helping you get back at him."

"I'm not getting back at him," he contradicted with snort. Then, a shout came from behind, making him whirl around to check if the Australian was back. A quick scanned confirmed otherwise, so he continued, "I'm just defending myself. That's it." He put his hands together, making a pleading expression. "C'mon, Tooth. Have pity." He made a pouting face that had her bursting out in laughter.

"Alright." She gave in, but there was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "But you have to do something for me."

Puzzlement was written all his countenance. "Do what?"

She pulled him closer and whispered something into his ear.

His eyes widened and he drew back, brows alarmingly high. " _You_? Since when?"

"Since a long time," Tooth said, feeling a bit offended by his reaction. She folded her arms. "So, do we have a deal or not?"

"I'm not sure if this is worth it," the boy said, twiddling his thumbs as he pondered.

Tooth narrowed her eyes darkly at him. "Are you backing out on this?"

"Ah, no, no, okay, I'll do it." Jack nodded, though he did pull a sour face.

"So what kind of 'blackmail' material are you looking for?" The girl swerved a finger on her laptop.

Jack scrunched up his face in thought, when the perfect idea hit him. "What does the 'E' in 'E. Aster Bunnymund' stand for?"

* * *

Act 15: Where the Evil of Watercoolers became Evident

"Hey, Elvis."

Bunnymund involuntarily sucked in a breath, which was rather inconvenient, because he was at that point of time trying to drink from a water cooler. This resulted in water running up his nose, and he pulled away from the tap, choking and spluttering. The white-haired boy just leaned against the wall, watching in complete amusement.

"You," the Australian growled, wiping the water spilling out one nostril and coughing, "you, who told you?"

"From special, secret reliable sources," was all Jack replied, smugness on every inch of his expression. "And I will tell everyone in this school if you try to throw me in the trash, do onto me any form of bodily harm-" he began counting off his fingers "-insult my music choices, play that annoying GIF with me on it, play the song 'Don't Stop Believing', and take up my side of the room." He thought for a moment. "Okay, to be fair, I take up your side of the room more often than you do mine."

"See 'ere, mate,-" Bunnymund was about to jab the boy in his chest, but then remembered the 'bodily harm' condition, "-you've got no proof. No one will believe you."

"Oh, don't I?" Jack slyly produced his phone, flicking on the screen. He showed this to his roommate, who began spluttering once again, this time because he could not really find the words to answer. Bunnymund tried to snatch the phone, but Jack was too quick, switching the screen off and tucking it back in his pocket.

"So, do we have an agreement?" the shorter boy said with a cheeky grin – a grin that Bunnymund was longing to rip off his face, pound into the floor into tiny pieces, after which he would gather and place these pieces into a jar, which he would post to himself in the mailbox. Then he would take the jar and drop into thick, sticky honey and drop it into an ant hill. For the finale, he would douse the ant hill with gasoline and light it up – with a bazooka.

Of course, he couldn't do this without Jack telling everyone his horrible first name – a name bestowed onto him by his rock-n-roll crazed mother who though it was a good thing to name her son after a deceased legend who was probably more famous his hair than his music (of which Bunnymund was fan of neither). If this ever got out in the school, he would be hearing ' _Heartbreak Hotel_ ' and ' _Hound Dog_ ' everywhere he went.

With a sigh, Bunnymund told the smirking boy, "I hate you."

Jack grinned. "Glad that we've reached an accord." With a triumphant nod, he bade his roommate farewell, to which Bunnymund thought 'Good riddance'.

He decided to return to drinking from the cooler, when he heard the boy calling out, "Oh, Tooth asked if you want to go Prom with her."

Once again, the water ran down the wrong way and sent the Australian boy into another coughing fit. He stared up at Jack, who wasn't the slightest guilty about the suffering he had inflicted.

The boy just went on, "You've got her number, so … just text her back yourself." After an awkward silence, he tucked his hands in his pocket and said, "Okay, bye."

After the departure of the source of his detestation, Bunnymund considered bending down to drink from the cooler, but after the last two experience, he decided on taking two careful steps away from it, then running away.

It was entirely possible that the water cooler cackling evilly after he fled, but who knew really?

* * *

Act 16: Where Umbrellas are Clearly the In-Thing

Our hero was actually feeling pretty good about himself.

His roommate had been put in his place, his crush no longer hated him, and he had three sets of unfinished assignments that were all due today.

Wait, wait, scrap the last one.

His roommate had been put in his place and his crush no longer hated him. It was the start of a wonderful day.

Well, besides the sun shining and everything, but that's why he brought his umbrella. He noticed she didn't really like the sun, considering how she struggled so much to sit in the shade, so he figured she would appreciate his little token. Maybe he might get promoted from a 'no' to a 'maybe'. That would be nice.

Well, while he was strolling cheerfully down to the usual bench in the courtyard, he should have noticed how the leaves drooped in the wind, how the happy white clouds turned black and how a cold wind fell his way.

Actually, I'm kidding. All those were completely irrelevant to the story. Our hero would have survived quite well if he had not paid attention to these and paid attention instead to the knife pointing at his chest.

(Well, that escalated quickly, didn't it?)

"Hello, Jack."

Jack gazed down at the blade, then he slowly lifted his eyes up to it owner. He wasn't honestly that surprised actually. "Hello, Pitch."

The tall, pale senior student grinned, flashing his pointy, white teeth. If Jack was considered a bad boy, then Pitch was the badder boy (worse boy, whatever).

He wasn't the stereotypical high school jock that bullied smaller fry. He wasn't even a punkish emo who went around scaring people he didn't like. He was most definitely not the type who would skip school and go to strange places to consume inappropriate substances. He was actually smart - really, really smart, to the point that everyone said he was definitely was going to be valedictorian. Just, you know, the kind of valedictorian that went around carrying knives and pointing them at people. If he were a normal student, he would have probably been chained to the counselor's chair for a whole semester, but he wasn't. He was the type that people called the 'eccentric genius' – though Jack had often amended in his mind that 'eccentric' should have been replaced with 'psychotic'. He was brilliant in numerous things, from the arts to the science all the way to the sports (he was called 'The Silence Killer' in cricket games'). People didn't exactly know what to do with someone this talented yet this … unpredictable (that's just a nice way of saying 'morally uninhibited'). If people avoid the Snow Queen like a raging storm, they avoided Pitch like the plague. It was said that even Principal North stepped lightly around this guy. 'Nightmare King' was too appropriate a title for him.

"What do you want?" Jack scowled. There was no else at the courtyard this early in the morning, and any CCTV camera around the area would not be able to capture the palm-sized blade that Pitch had hidden well behind his sleeves.

The pale boy let out a slight cackle, lifting the knife off the other students's chest. "Is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

Jack scowled even harder. "We've _not_ friends. We've _never_ been friends. Where do you get these ideas?"

"It's just a word. It's not going to kill you. Unlike _this._ " Pitch meaningful tested the tip of his blade with his forefinger, though not hard enough to pierce through the flesh.

The white-haired boy considered his words. "Wait, so you're going to kill me?"

"Well, maybe. I haven't made up my mind yet," the other boy admitted, pocketing the knife with a careless shrug.

"Well, please, um, don't make up your mind." Jack nodded and flashed an overtly large smile. Hooking the umbrella around his arm, he stepped around his fellow, but way creepier, senior. "Bye."

"Hold on a moment there, Jack." A vice-like grip curled around his forearm, dragging him back abruptly. Pitch's glittering yellow-eyes – his own curious birth defect – seemed to burn right into the shorter boy's soul. "Rumor has it that you've been wooing a certain person of considerable significance to me."

"Person of considerable significance -" Jack repeated, completely baffled, before it hit him. "Oh, come on! Really? She broke up with you in eighth grade!" Then, he added snippishly, "And stop sounding like a textbook. It makes me feel like hitting you."

"It was a misunderstanding," Pitch answered smoothly, not even bothering to take in account Jack's threat. "She was mad. I was enraged. We said things we didn't mean, and I burned up her laptop."

"Oh, please!" The boy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows she broke up with you because you're creepy."

"I am not creepy.-"

"Yes, you are."

"-I'm terrifying, perhaps,-"

"Creepy."

"-paralyzing, horrifying, odd on occasion-"

"Creepy like a creeper."

"-bad-tempered, aggressive, arrogant-"

"Creepy like a _Humulus lupulus_. Times ten."

"-The point is-" Pitch grabbed Jack by the collar, glaring down at him, "-she's mine. So _back off._ "

"You're hilarious." The boy nonchalantly unhooked the wiry hand gripping his hoodie. "Here's my piece - _no_. I've waited too long."

"Well, that's just sad for you, Jack - fated to be alone. Forever."

Jack wasn't sure if Pitch was reaching his pocket for his knife again, or for a breath-mint, or maybe he wasn't reaching for anything at all, but he wasn't going to take any chances. So, unhooking the umbrella from his arm, the white-haired boy raised it up like a baseball bat and swung it straight at the taller boy's head. The lithe, skinny figure of the to-be valedictorian crumpled onto the ground suddenly with an ungraceful thud. Grim satisfaction swelled in the assailant's chest.

Until he realized that just standing ten feet was Elsa, looking upon the scene with complete distaste.

"Oh, um,-" Jack lowered the umbrella, then waved at her "-hi?"

She continued to stare at him, then at the collapsed student.

Not able to quite think of anything intelligent to say, he asked with a bit too much cheer, "You, me, Prom?"

Elsa gave him a withering look.

He swallowed, peering warily at Pitch, who was still unconscious. "I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

* * *

 **I don't usually ship non-canonical ships (you would hear me emphasise this over and over in The Odds of Five), but huh, since I'm already doing a Jelsa, why not a Bunnymund/Tooth? (Extremely light, and not that important in the plot.) Any Pelsa (what a dumb ship name, but Eitch sounds strange too) is purely for plot (and it tickles me.)**

 **I have no regrets about naming Bunnymund 'Elvis'. I've always wondered what the 'E' in 'E. Aster Bunnymund' stood for, and this seemed like the perfect answer. (** _ **We can't go on together, with suspicious miiindddsss *Suspicious Minds!*)**_

 **One of my readers were kind enough to point out to me that American High School usually don't have dorms, so I guess for this story, I'm going with a boarding school for high schoolers. Hope that makes sense. I apologize for other lapses in accuracy pertaining to the on-goings of Prom, High school and valedictorians.**

 **Reviews would be appreciated.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you, Elvis, for your great classic songs. I can't stand your voice, but man, the songs are catchy.**

* * *

Act 17: Where Our Hero Seriously Needed Social Skills

If he were in elementary school, he would have been ordered to write 'I will not hit fellow students in the head with an umbrella ' one hundred times. But, because he was in high school, the school Principal, Nicholas St. North, was well-versed enough an expert of pedagogy to know that the minds of rebellious adolescents could only be truly altered by a meaningful, reflective exercise.

Like painting toys. That was Jack's task for detention. Paint one hundred toys.

To be fair, it was a form of charity work. Principal North (the St. was often dropped for convenience, and because the Principal got too many people calling him 'Principal Street North' instead of 'Principal Saint North') was actively involved in an organization that distributed donated toys to kids in low-income families all over the world. North however was dissatisfied with many of the donated toys, which were often in a broken state and took to having them fixed up proper before giving them to the kids. Jack, being rather fond of kids himself, appreciated the extra mile that his principal was willing to go to show these kids some kindness...

...except that the distributions only took place once a year at _Christmas_. They were in spring right now. Over-prepared much?

Well, Principal North didn't think so. He loved Christmas, so if he wanted to spend a whole year preparing for it, he'd do it. If he wanted to force his students to do the same thing, well, it was really his prerogative. Rebel and well, you might do something more unsavory, like mopping the floor.

That was how Jack ended up in a classroom at after-school hours, boredly painting a bunch of robot-shaped toys that weren't robots (there were no actually robots red, because one of the other volunteers, who was actually Phil the cleaner a.k.a. Phil the Yeti ( nobody knew who gave nickname, and till now, no one knew why) who worked at the same charity foundation as Principal North, had accidentally painted them blue. Personally, the white-haired boy felt that blue or red shouldn't have mattered that much – it was just color, right? But Principal North cared and Principal North wanted red, so red it was. If the man didn't have such a jovial laugh and get himself involved in so much charity stuff, Jack would have pinned him for a dictator.

Our hero was on toy number eleven when the door of the classroom was unlocked. The large, muscular old man came marching in with a wide smile over his candy-floss fluffy beard, as he had entered an amusement park and not detention class.

"Good news, Jack Frost!" North boomed at the boy. Jack couldn't help but shrink away just a little. The principal didn't mean to be frightening, but his personality was a bit, no, a great deal overwhelming. "You have company!"

The soles of shoes squeaked against the tiles as the entering student dragged his feet in the class. Jack paused his painting to gaze up at the newcomer, and his brows raised themselves after he realized who it was. It was the blonde junior whom he had had a shouting match in the library yesterday.

"Because I feel generous today," the Principal beamed at both them as he stuck his hands of them, as if he was about to offer them candy instead of another two hours of detention "-I'll allow you to go after both of you have completed one hundred toys together! Isn't that splendid?"

"Peachy, Mr. Principal," the other student drawled sarcastically.

Fortunately for him, North didn't catch it. "Excellent! Carry on, boys!"

Once he left, the blonde boy wearily turned his eyes to the stacks of blue toys and sighed. He gave Jack emotionless nod before dropping himself on a nearby seat. Jack handed a paintbrush over to him, which he accepted sullenly. He dipped the paint from the palette and grabbed the first toy, beginning the coloring session.

"So," Jack started cheerily, "what're you here for?"

"Mr. Oaken's a jerk. He totally overcharged me on library fines," the scruffy boy answered shortly, aggressively swishing paint marks on the surface. "I hate humans."

The vehemence of the statement told Jack that the other fellow probably wouldn't elaborate further on his piece, so he decided to fill up the space instead, "I hit a guy in the head with an umbrella."

This earned a bit of interest from blonde junior student. "Really? Who?"

"I won't name any names here," Jack said with a false air of generosity, "but it rhymes with 'my itch is back'."

Then the interest died and his detention buddy stared at him quizzically.

"It's Pitch Black," the white-haired boy told him.

The junior blinked at him, then admitted, "I have no idea who that is."

"Pitch Black?" Jack's jaw fell open. "Nightmare King? Guy who looks like a gothic zombie wearing a crown of black spikes?" He made a face at the other boy, almost splattering paint on himself as he did. "How can you not know? Everyone knows."

"I just don't." The big blonde shrugged, unashamed. "I don't socialize much. I don't gossip. I try to ignore the existence of other people mostly."

The white-haired boy accessed his companion critically. "You're odd."

"I can live with it." He shrugged once more. "Better than hang out with humans. Humans suck. Reindeers are so much better."

"You remind me of my roommate," Jack told him, stacking his finished toy on one side of his table before reaching out for an unpainted one to restart his project. "Except that he obsesses more about chocolate and Taichi, not…what did you say?"

"Reindeers," the junior student answered promptly.

"Reindeers," Jack repeated with a nod, dipping his brush into the paint pot. He inquired curiously, "Why reindeers?"

"Because reindeers don't backstab you, or steal your lunch money, or burn a thumb-drive full of your project notes over a stove," the blonde fellow listed these off his fingers. "They also don't make fun of your unmanly blonde hair, or tell you your feet are shaped weird, or tell you go back to your Amish town just because you don't know how to use a mobile phone. And before you ask,-" his bushy brows furrowed together "-I do know how to use a phone. I just don't know how Snapchat works."

Those were oddly specific examples that would be unwise to pry about, but Jack, not being the wisest of people (as established in Act 1, where we clearly deemed him an idiot), asked, "So, are you from an Amish town?"

That earned a deep frown from the blonde guy. It was almost like there was a thundercloud over his head. "I'm from Alaska."

Jack nodded, slowly taking in this information. Then he added in, chewing his lip in thought, "There's a difference?"

* * *

Act 18: Where Our Hero and Heroine Contemplated their Sad, Very Sad Lives

"Hey, fancy seeing you here!"

She stared at him in complete incredulity, then at the bruise swelling on the side of his face. "Don't tell you me you got injured just to come here to annoy me too."

"No, actually. Just managed to offend a guy with a huge fist." He grinned a bit too wide, stretching his wound and sending a flare of pain through his system. He winced immediately after. "And I didn't know you worked here."

Elsa sighed. She peered up at the clock. Her shift would be over in thirty minutes, but it would probably feel like an eternity in the presence of this guy. She spun around, waving wearily for him to follow her. "C'mon. I'll get you ice for that."

The med-bay here usually had a steady stream of students coming in to seek treatment. However, most of the time, the ailments declared were migraines and dizziness, which were somehow always reported during class hours. Once the last period of the day was over, these sicknesses would be miraculously cured and the students would wake up from their naps, wave cheerily at the health attendant on the duty and skip off with a spring in their step. Elsa was well of this ploy and she staunchly refused to entertain such fakers, even when the faker was her sister (Anna had sheepishly avoided her gaze for that entire month after that incident). She didn't know why she volunteered her time here sometimes, considering that the medical experience that she manage to derive was pittance to the rubbish she had to put up with, but at least it would help fill her resume.

And she could also throw bags of ice at annoying, white-haired boys.

"Ow!" Jack lurched back slightly as the bag collided with his chest, barely managing to catch the ice bag. She heard him wheeze, "I think I got another bruise."

"Oh, dear," she said without sympathy as she dug into the ice store. "I guess I'll have to give you another ice bag for that."

His eyes widened slightly at the idea of her 'giving' another bag in the same way. "Um, no thanks. I'm good. I'm totally good." He fumbled with the ice bag, adjusting it over the bruise on his face and pressing it intently.

It then occurred to her there were only two of them alone in the med-bay. The working nurse had left to get takeaway for her dinner and all the hypochondriacs had already gone off. She watched the boy, swollen-faced, staring at her intently. She had a good idea of what he was going to do, even before he opened his mouth.

"No, don't you dare," she told him just as he sucked in a breath, making him freeze midway through the motion.

His forehead wrinkled. "Don't I dare what?"

"Ask me to Prom again." Elsa folded her arms, sticking her chin up at him. With an expression that she hoped was severe enough to convey to him her seriousness, she told him, "You know my answer already, so I really don't know why you keep hounding me about it."

"Actually, I was just going to ask how things with your sister are going."

That drew a jarring halt on her aggression. "Oh." She brought her gloved hands together, twisting them against each other as she thought on how to phrase herself. For you see, just the night before, she did have somewhat of a failed reconciliation attempt with her sister when both of them had encountered each other in the dorm pantry.

It went something like this:

 _Both girls stared awkwardly at each other, empty water bottles in hand as they stood before the water-dispenser. Anna, clearly nervous, was changing like a flashlight, turning red, then white, then red, all while feverishly pressing her lips together as she scrambled for what to do ('panic' was not an option). Elsa, forcibly keeping herself cool, maintained an expression of frosty impassivity._

 _Elsa: Anna._

 _Anna: (stuttering) Heh, er, I Helsa. I mean, hi Elsa. Er, what are you doing here?_

 _Elsa: (expression has not altered, holds up empty water bottle) Refilling._

 _Anna: (forced, overly bright smile) Hey, so am I. C-c-cool, huh? It's like we've got some kind of mental synchronization, huh? Coming down to refill bottles at same time!_

 _Elsa (not sure what to make of this, and definitely uncertain if the qualifications of mental synchronization were so lenient as to permit 'bottle-filling timings' to be a criterion of success): …Yes._

 _Both girls resumed their impromptu staring contest with one another, in which Elsa was by far winning since Anna had blinked at least ten times to make sure she was awake and not in one of those awful nail-baiting, sweat-inducing nightmares she usually had. The student who happened to be waiting behind them for his turn with the water dispenser eventually gave up and stalked away, grumbling inaudibly as he did._

 _Eventually -_

 _Elsa: (out loud) Well, how are you and Hans?_

 _(in her mind) Are you still together with that disgusting piece of filth whom I have the temptation to turn into a popsicle?_

 _Anna: (twirls one of her braids): Um, we're doing okay. We're ...um, still together... (mutters under breath, not knowing that her sister had heard it) so far. (Eyes darting to meet Elsa's for a second, before flitting away, then flitting back)._

 _Elsa (in her mind) **Creates a humongous ice monster who shall be dubbed 'Marshmallow' and summons him to throw Hans off a cliff. Marshmallow proceeds to chase down Hans and to be please his mistress further, gulps the despicable turd in a single motion and burps emphatically. Hans' scream for mercy continue echo all over the planet.**_

 _(out loud) I see._

 _Anna: (warily) Are you, um, still mad about it?_

 _Elsa: (in her mind) **The mountains let out a mighty crack before the snows comes rolling down the peak, gaining speed on descent and plunging down in full force as a full-blown avalanche.**_

 _(out loud, after sighing) I suppose that you should be allowed to make your own ... decisions._

 _(in her mind) Even if they lead to unnecessary heartbreak and depression._

 _Anna: O-o-oh! (face brightens slightly) So, you give us your blessing?_

 _Elsa: (in her mind) **The sky was falling on their heads. People were running on the streets crying bloody murder. Chocolate suddenly became sentient and protested against itself being mass-produced and consumed by human. Little green aliens had descended upon the Earth and beeped in their strange little green language that the font Arial was now illegal. Worst of all, she had to attend her sister's marriage to that horrendous creature called Hans, eat sandwiches shaped like the couple's faces and shake hands with his thirteen brothers while each of them tried to ask her to Prom.**_

 _(out loud) Not in the slightest._

 _She pushed her way past her sister, fully intending to flee the scene and never return. It meant never drinking ice-cold water again, just that lukewarm thing that ran from her tap. But fate would not let her escape so easily._

 _Anna: What did I ever do to you? Why do you hate me so much?_

 _Without really meaning to, Elsa's steps slowed._

 _Anna: (caught up in her rant) Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out?_

 _Elsa: Because! (turning sharply, her eyes hard as agates) You have a tendency to throw yourself in difficult situations that results in you just hurting yourself - because YOU don't know how to shut the world out. YOU don't know how to stop having fun, or pouring your energies into senseless and meaningless activities. YOU don't know how to grow up, Anna, and it's going to cost you someday._

 _A harsh silence fell between the girls as the blonde stopped to take a breath._

 _Anna: (narrowing her own eyes dangerously) Hans is right. Everyone's right. You don't know how to care about things, or how to be happy, or just let other people be happy! You're a cold, bitter Snow Queen, and one day, THAT'S going to cost you._

 _Elsa took a step back in response to the unexpected fire her sister showed and wasn't even able to move when her sister pushed past her (ANNA pushed past HER, not the other way round). She didn't move for a while, just stunned in the moment._

"That bad, huh?"

She whirled about to face the boy. "What?"

"I take it things have not improved with the sister." The boy was nodding sagely, completely assured that his assumption was right.

Elsa peered at him, astounded "How do you know all these things?"

"It took you that long to answer, so it couldn't have been good," he informed her, that insufferable grin of amusement stretching across his face.

She glared at him.

"What? It's called social skills. You might have some if you, well, actually talked to more people."

"Coming from the person who hit another guy with his umbrella, then got himself punched by another guy," she pointed out.

He wagged a finger before her, about to issue a retort, then paused. After a minute - "Fine, you win."

Elsa found herself sinking down onto one of the med-bay beds, shoulders slumping. Her mood suddenly went from irate to contemplative. "It seems like the more I interact with her, the more strained things between us become."

The boy blinked, then too quickly he piped in, "Don't say that."

"But it's true." The girl grimaced, assessing herself criticaly in the mirror hanging across the room, next to the eye-check chart. "It's like I'm a walking curse."

"Tell me about it." She felt the bed shift next to her as he sat down. "Whoa, this thing has wheels." He stood and pulled the bed back into the correct position before sitting himself down again. "As I was saying, people tend to pin the blame on me every time something goes wrong, even when it's clearly never my fault."

Elsa gave him a level stare.

" _Sometimes_ not my fault," he amended repentantly. "In those cases, I deserve it. But in others, well, I'm not completely sure yet." He was not looking at her, but quite intently at a poster that described the importance of a balanced diet, along with the food pyramid. She rather doubted that that was what really captured his interest and wondered what he was really thinking about. "At least, that's what I tell myself to make me feel better."

A wordless lull fell between them as both moodily contemplated the wrongs they might have committed in their lives. Of course, if they managed a more objective perspective, it might have stricken them that all their 'bad deeds' were quite insignificant on a cosmic scale and that their pessimism wasn't doing them any favors. But they were teenagers, and teenagers had the unfortunate habit of brooding over themselves in a rather self-centred manner, even if it was about as productive as painting the exterior of a house with water-colors.

Fortunately, one of the duo was not in a habit of staying in Angst Land too long and nudged the other in a manner that was almost casual. "Hey."

"What?" She felt slightly annoyed that he had pulled her out of misery-induced reverie.

He wasn't the slightest ashamed about what he had done, which made her even more annoyed than ever. She had to resisted the urge to cram his ice bag into his mouth so that he couldn't talk. "I just realized that there are two of us."

She didn't get it. "Yes?"

"On a roller bed."

"Yes?" Her brow rose another inch.

"And most people would be at the canteen eating now."

"What's your point?"

His face lit up with wicked mischief. "What say you and me have a little fun?"

* * *

Act 19: Where Dreams were to Take Flight or Die Trying. Mostly Die Trying.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

If they had managed to go unnoticed thus far, they would definitely be noticed now. But Jack didn't care. He hadn't done this in years. Admittedly, this bed was larger than the ones he used before, and the girl sitting on it was also a good deal heavier than his sister had ever been, but he didn't care. The wind flew in his hair as he heaved the bed forward, dashing down the corridor as he was being chased by woods. With each foot travelled forward, they picked up momentum. He knew that there was ramp between common room and the welfare house, so he kept them going in that direction.

He heard the passenger on the bed say something, but the rattling of wheels covered it. He called forward, "What?"

The girl twisted herself around slightly. She was stoically kneeled on the top of the bed, legs together and skirt neatly adjusted modestly. The sight of her, so dignified and unflappable, was a juxtaposed to the view of the emergency bed swooping down class corridor.

"I said," she yelled towards him, "I'm starting to regret this!" He was pretty she would at some point. It took her nearly ten minutes to finally agree to this.

"It's too late now!" he shouted back at her, letting out a mad cackle as he did. "We're taking flight!"

Just then, the ramp came into the view. Jack let out a hoot of victory, speeding up his pace. Elsa swung around to see where he was taking them, then swung back to him. Never had he seen self-control melt so rapidly off a person's face.

"I'm going to jump on, so move over!" He called to her, the sound his sneakers slamming against the tiles barely hear as they zoomed past the various club rooms.

"What!" She was aghast – no, terrified. "No! Don't-" he pulled himself back a little and leapt forward "-jump! JACK!" He flew forward and landed on his knees on the mattress. Those were going to leave some bruises, but who cared? He already had one on his face – another was hardly going to hurt. He was too busy having fun right now.

He adjusted himself on the bed, which was gliding almost perfectly despite the extra weight, such that he was kneeling adjacent to her. Somehow during their ride, her neat little bun had unravelled itself and in its place was a French braid that hung rather elegantly over her shoulder. He made a note to tell how well this little tweak in appearance improved her appearance – not that she wasn't already the epitome of ethereal beauty – but for now he just shouted, "Raise your hands in the air!"

She stared at him as if he had told her to do a jig on the rooftop of the school.

"Your loss!" He shrugged.

Then, the bed rolled down the ramp.

Jack let out a loud and hearty "WHOOOOO-HOOOOOOO!"

The epitome of ethereal beauty just screamed.

The drop allowed them to pick up speed and soon they were literally zooming past the common room, past the teachers' office, past the study benches. No one was in their way, thank goodness. It was just them and the soundless blur that engulfed them, and Jack felt like he was soaring into the skies.

His companion eventually relaxed her grip on the mattress casing, drawing back slowly to balance herself. Despite herself, she began smile, starting with a small one that slowly grew into a thorough beam. She even started laugh a little, and it was like the jingle of bells on a Christmas morning.

Adrenaline pumped and completely inconsiderate, both teenagers – more the boy than the girl – were whooping and cheering and they flew past unopened doors and sleeping students. They were young, healthy with a deathwish, and man, it was fun.

But of course, the course of bed-surfing never did run smooth and along their path, they suddenly spotted an errant rabbit in the way.

"BUNNYMUND!" Jack hollered.

His roommate was, unfortunately, drinking from a water-coller at that moment of time and that unexpected call made him gasp, which resulted in swallowing the liquid far too quickly again.

"How – cough - many –cough – times do we have to-" the Australian growled between coughs as he spun his head towards the voice, only to jump back as he saw the incoming vehicle. "OH, CRICKEY!"

The panicked athlete immediately flattened himself against the wall and he was met with a sharp gust of wind as the rolling bed just missed him.

"Catch you later, King of Memphis!" the white-haired boy called to him as they disappeared into the distance.

Bunnymund was panting, his slightly glazed, clutching his heaving chest. He eyed the water-cooler, then said, waving his arms emphatically, "THAT'S IT!"

From that day forward, Bunnymund never used a water-cooler again in his life. When people asked why, he would say in a dark voice, "They're out to get me. I can feel it." People called him paranoid, but of course, the water-coolers would guffaw to themselves in silence and look upon the human race with pity, for they didn't know that the water-cooler revolution was on the rise and the water-coolerites would one day conquer the rest of the world.

But that's another story. Carrying on with our present one:

They were sailing down the school corridor and all the dullness and internally troubling parts of their lives seemed to dissolve away with the speed. Their laughter rocked the rafters and they were cheering like lunatics who had escaped the bars of the asylum. When he turned to her, it occurred to him how brightly her eyes sparkled and how pinkly her cheeks flushed, and in that magical moment a song burst in his heart and Jack began to sing, " _I can show you the world-"_

Then _\- WHAM!_ The bed smashed headlong into a pillar.

Both startled were flung up in the air before they collapsed quite ungracefully on the hard, merciless ground.

Even as he scraped himself off the floor, cringing at his new found scabs, Jack was cackling. "That was awesome!" he crowed, then winced. "Okay, but I think I broke a bone somewhere."

"That was possibly the most ridiculous thing I'd ever done," his blonde companion murmured, kneeling herself up and dusting her clothes. Even after what they had just gone through, she seemed remarkably good at keeping herself composed. "Well, these are certainly going into the laundry today."

"Are you alright?" he asked her, suddenly worried. He hadn't actually thought through the possible injuries that their activity might inflict upon her.

"Mostly," she answered, studiously looping her braid back into a bun. If there were any injuries, they were hidden under her modest garb. Elsa cocked her head at him. "You don't look too good."

There were abrasion marks on both his palms as well as another two scrapes along his jaw and cheek. He gazed down on own wounds and murmured, "Gross."

It was only then that they realized that they themselves and the emergency bed were sitting right in front of the canteen corridors. In a matter of fact, there were several students already making their way out the canteen doors, even some teachers, and they were all gaping at the two students on the grounds, along with the roller bed that was crashed in the pillar.

Elsa suddenly turned pale, paralyzed on the spot like a deer caught in the headlights. It then hit Jack that this was a new situation for her. Unlike him, who had been pranking his way through every grade, she wasn't used all the negative attention. She was the good girl. She didn't get this kind of trouble. Crap, what if he ended up getting her into detention? She'd hate him forever if she got a mark on her record for this.

It happened that the most splendid idea struck the boy right that moment. Dropping himself back flat on the floor, he clutched at his face wounds dramatically. "OW! OH! I'M IN SUCH PAIN!"

All eyes immediately went to him, including those of his blonde accomplice. She had her head inclined towards him in a questioning manner, not at all believing his performance.

Jack pressed his lips together in annoyance before declaring in a louder voice, "I'm feeling so dizzy! So faint!" He placed his hand on forehead. "I need to be treated!"

Elsa still hadn't move, so he subtly pointed at the emergency bed, then covered this action up by quickly flopping himself back to the ground.

Then, she finally got it. Straightening herself up hastily, prim and proper as always she turned to the on-lookers. "Well, what are you waiting for?" Elsa raised a brow challengingly at them. The expression that she sent them all could be described lightly as 'scathing' and more heavily 'as burning with the ferocity of a thousand fires'. "I can't possibly lift him up myself." When no one moved, she pointed at two large lads in football attire. "You and you. Don't think I can't see you." She thumbed Jack. "Help me pick him up."

Under her direction – which including a lot of cold correction on how they did this job that they didn't want to – Jack, who trying not to laugh as he feigned his swoon, was carried up to the emergency bed. Elsa then walked towards the emergency bed in a stately manner, pried it off the pillar and began pushing it back into the direction of the med-bay.

"Well, carry on then," she scolded the people who were still staring on, "don't you have better things to do?"

Walking away in a manner of regality only achievable by the Snow Queen, she shoved the emergency back down the corridor and the classes, her head held high. Jack himself stayed slumped on the bed, moaning so exaggeratedly in pain that one of the teachers passing them by asked if an ambulance was to be called.

"No need for that," Elsa hastily assured him. She accelerated her pace as to avoid facing anymore of such questions.

When they entered back to the safety of the med-bay, the white-haired boy began to chuckle, loud and hearty. The girl fixing the bed back in it position was trying to keep her face straight, but she couldn't hold back her own grin either.

"Did you see their faces?" Jack let out another chortle as he leapt of the bed, clutching his stomach as he did. "And Bunnymund! Hahaha! That poor old fur ball. And those football guys?" He gave her a double thumbs-up, that made her flush slightly. "Awesome."

"We could have gotten in such big trouble," she tried to tell him in a rebuking manner, but the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her. She had enjoyed herself, though it would be against herself to admit otherwise.

If our hero was a good, sensible boy, he would take the moment to spout out some joke and she would laugh, then perhaps he follow up by asking her to Prom again. In the heat of the moment, she might have even said yes.

Except, our hero was not a good, sensible boy. So, instead, he leaned forward and kissed her.

It wasn't like those dramatic, long drawn kisses that always got attached to the end of cheesy rom-coms. It was just one of those impulsive, stupid pecks that you gave to your first crush without remembering to ask if your first crush was okay with it.

If this was some silly high school drama, the girl in question might slap the boy and stalk off in anger, or return her own fervent kiss of passion. As this was a silly high school drama written by a sarcastic student with an especial fondness for quirky writing, however, Elsa just looked at the boy with wide eyes. She didn't scold him, or punch him, or kiss him back. She blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him. She just kept staring at him.

Then slowly, she lifted the collar of her sleeve to her face and brushed her lips fiercely against it.

The meaning could not be missed. Jack's heart sank.

Elsa didn't even say anything, just slowly turning away before walking to the medical cabinet. She opened it, removing a pack of gauze and a glass bottle of brown liquid. She moved back to him, not meeting his eyes no matter how long he looked her way. She merely adjusted his jaw up and began layering the liquid on the wound first, then applied a net like bandage over it, and then a gauze. She didn't even warn him as she pushed his head roughly back to tape the gauze on.

She repeated the same procedure for his palms, but not on his cheeks, deeming it not bad enough a cut to bandage up. The entire process was done in complete silence. With each second Jack felt his entire self slumping back, his mood sinking to depth he had never felt before.

Finally, Elsa drew back, accessing the dressings coolly. "Done."

She didn't say anything more. She didn't even look at him, moving off to the medical cabinet. Even when she was done with that, she just went to the sink to wash her hands and picked up reading material on the shelf. It was like he just stopped existing.

Like he just went invisible all over again.

If our hero were a bolder boy, he might have confronted her, but the chilling manner of the Snow Queen was not something to be taken lightly and in the face of it, he lost his confidence.

He had entered the med bay full of cheer, and now he left it in disquiet.

* * *

Act 20: Where Laundry Room became the Centre of Misery and Boy-Talk

" _Well, since my baby left me,-"_

 _Bam bam!_

 _"-I found a new place to dwell."_

 _Bam bam!_

 _"It's down at the end of lonely street_  
 _at Heartbreak Hotel."_

After hitting the floor in a manner that did not involve dancing or performance, but literally flopping one's entire body onto the floor upon falling off a rolling bed, Jack's hoodie needed a wash.

So the boy had dumped his laundry basket of assorted clothes – plus hoodie – in the laundry machine, paid his dues in the coin box and hit start button.

And the mournful washing began.

 _"You make me so lonely baby,"_ wailed Presley through the phone gripped between his palms. _"I get so lonely,_ _I get so lonely I could die."_

Jack let out a long sigh as he curled himself in front of the washing machine. Hoodie-withdrawal had already started setting in, and that added to the misery pie stuffed in his jaws today left him feeling that life was quite unappetizing.

"Wow. You look like a mess."

He was too depressed to even lift his head, so he merely strained his eyes to peek through the white strands of his fringe. Discovering the owner of the voice did not comfort him in any way.

"I didn't know you stayed on this block," he murmured, returning his gaze to the spinning wheel that was his laundry, poking the bruise on his face at the same time.

The blonde junior student didn't seem very guilty about the harm he had inflicted. Probably in his mind it was justified, or probably because he thought he had paid the penance full with the extra detention he had stayed back for. "I don't, but the laundry machine on my side's all broken."

He then went over the empty machine next to Jack's and set his basket on the top. Pulling open the door of the machine, he proceeded to load the clothes in. In his boredom, the white-haired boy began to observe his ex-assailant in his task, noting that he possessed a disturbing number of reindeer-related material, including reindeer-themed socks, reindeer-themed bermudas, a T-shirt declaring, 'Rudolph's the best' with a Christmas motif, an Alaska-themed T-shirt that also had reindeers on it, and one jumper that declared, _"I have seen in my time that is absolutely clear that mankind will perish, but the reign of reindeers will prevail"_ and there was a swiggle line at the bottom to attribute this bizarre quote to a guy called Rudolph Rednose Reindeerer. Jack was not sure if to take the last one seriously. He was not sure if he could take any of the reindeer apparel seriously, actually.

"Are you judging my clothes?" the large blonde junior, who looked even larger from the foot-stool that Jack was squatting over, asked in a quiet voice. The latter could almost imagine the other guy rolling up his sleeves to add another bruise to the first.

The white-haired boy's mouth hung open for a while before a squeak emerged from his throat - "No."

"You hesitated." The blonde guy stared down at him, still holding the reindeer shirt under his arm.

"I'm learning to think before I talk," Jack snapped before he could stop himself. He was really not in a good mood right now and this fellow bugging him this was did help matters. "Got a problem with that?"

Fortunately, the blonde student just accessed him wordlessly and shrugged. After chucking his reindeer-plagued wash load into the machine, he slammed the door shut and shoved the quarter in. He started the machine and it began to hum as it joined the one adjacent to it in soaking the fabrics and swishing them in circles.

The blonde kid sat himself on the footstool next to Jack's, which was when the boy noted that the scruffy navy blue shirt the other boy was also reindeer-themed, this time featuring an anthropomorphic reindeer strumming a lute.

And Presley droned on from Jack's phone,

 _"Well, the Bell hop's tears keep flowin',-"_

 _Bam bam!_  
 _"-and the desk clerk's dressed in black."_

 _Bam bam!_  
 _"Well they been so long on lonely street,_  
 _they ain't ever gonna look back."_

"Geez, you're certain a clump of despair, aren't you?" the blonde student remarked, grimacing at the song choice. "And is that Elvis Presley?"

"I'm not a clump of despair," Jack denied fervently, hugging his knees together. "I'm a bucket of despair. I _refuse_ to be a clump. And yes, it's Elvis Presley."

"You don't like a Presley sort of person," the other guy commented.

"I'm not," Jack said, turning down the volume on his phone a little. "I'm just familiarizing myself with the discography so that I can use it against my roommate."

He expected that the blonde junior would have more questions now, but the big guy just nodded thoughtfully. "Good for you. Still working out how to get back at my roommate. He's a regular menace of a snob."

"What kind of guy is he? Jock? Nerd? Smart-alec?" Jack just asked idly, trying to find something that might draw his thoughts away from – oh, no, there it was again! The 1080 pixel image of her narrowing her eyes down at him, rubbing her lips against her sleeve in complete disgust towards him, turning away from him.

He wanted to cry himself into a puddle.

Unfortunately for his emo-indulgent side of him, his blonde companion actually reply, "The self-absorbed jerk type that spends more time scheming on how to get good grades instead actually getting them properly." He made a derisive snort. "At least when I fail class, it's out of my own effort."

"Right," Jack said, mentally noting down the details. He tapped the side of his bruised cheek thoughtfully. "Have you ever punched him?" The guy looked at him with a frown. "Hey, I'm not really against punching – except when I'm on the receiving end. But seriously, have you ever punched him?"

The blonde student shook his head. "Still waiting for a good reason to do it. If I punched him every time he irritated me, I'd be expelled." He gazed down at his hand, adding with greater fervor, "And I'd break my fist."

The whirl of the laundry machines hummed on, letting them know of every turn and swish their clothes were making even though they weren't that interested to know about it. But because laundry machines were attention seekers that enjoyed making their present known. If they had arms, they would be waving boards saying, "Look at me! I'm washing your clothes! If you don't look at me, I'll whirl louder until you look at me! And I may destroy all your socks in the process!"

Because humans do not speak the tongues of washing machines, Jack merely said to the boy, "I realize that up till now I don't your name."

The guy blinked at him. "I don't know yours."

Jack supposed that was a fair point. Proffering his palm, he introduced himself, "Jack Overland Frost."

His companion did not look quite convinced. "That can't be your real name."

"It is," Jack said, not really offended. It wasn't the first time he got this kind of comment. "I have an ID and everything to prove it."

"Okay," the other boy took the hand, still looking rather skeptical. His strength of his grip made Jack wince over his bandages. That was going to leave a mark. "Kristoff Bjorgman."

"That's a weird name," Jack said without really thinking.

"Not as weird as Jack Frost. It sounds like you're straight out of a children's book."

"True." He remembered how he used to complain to his parents about the inaptness of them naming him 'Jack' when their family name was Frost. He had bad childhood memories of classmates running away from him, covering their noses because they didn't want him to nip it. Meanies.

He slouched himself against the wall, straightening his legs out in a careless manner. Maybe it was because he was tired, or maybe because he felt a desperate need to dump the contents of his heart on a listener, even if the listener was unwilling. "Well, Kristoff, what do you know of a unrequited love?"

"I once fell in love with a mountain," the blonde guy answered without missing a beat. "It was shining, shimmering, splendid. But yeah, it didn't work out." He noted that Jack was looking at him oddly. "What? Do you want me to tell you about how seranding a moving glacier almost kill me?"

"Nevermind." The white-haired boy was too spent to put up with anymore strangeness. He directed his gaze up at the yellow lighting above, feeling a curious urge to throw something at the bulb and make it shatter.

"Hey, if there's anything I've learnt about unrequited love, there's two things you can do," Kristoff said, not really caring if his laundry buddy wasn't paying attention. "You can either give up and move on, or you can keep pushing. "In my case-" a peeved expression drew itself on his countenance "-pushing against a mountain or an glacier would probably cause an avalanche or equivalent, so I just gave up."

The laundry buddy was fortunately listening, and he straightened up. Suddenly, the darkness didn't seem so dark anymore. There was a light at the end of the tunnel. There was … hope! It soared in his heart, like an eagle soaring up into the sky, above the clouds and towards the sun, before being smashed against the titanium face of an incoming passenger plane.

Okay, well, he hadn't exactly hit the passenger plane part yet.

"You're absolutely right!" the boy told Kristoff, jumping up to his feet and planting to off his hands to his hips. "If I really like her, which I do, by the way, there's only one thing I must do!" He placed one foot on the _foot_ -stool, hence fulfilling its intended purpose instead of putting his butt there. He swung one shoulder back and had another shoulder thrusted forward. He had a hand clenched to his chest, and began to say in a slow dramatic tone, "I will seek her out, even if she flees from me, and I will fall down to my knees and beg for her forgiveness-"

"No, no." Kristoff shook his head. "Nowadays, girls don't really like kneeling, unless it's a proposal. And we're still in high school - you can't propose."

"-I will color her world with flowers of every kind, convince her of my sincerity with the sweet fragrance-"

"Not a good idea. Flowers die, and when they rot, that's not a pleasant smell."

"-I'll sing her sonnets to show the true expense of my feeling-"

"Singing is hard, and do you even know what a sonnet really is?"

He turned to the blonde guy, miffed. "You must the moodkiller of parties."

Kristoff barked a sharp laugh, saying in a boastful tone, "I don't go to parties." Then, his expression turned serious. "But, look, if she really means so much to you, why don't you, I don't know, _just tell her how you feel_!"

"I can't just -" Jack began to protest, until he stopped himself. An idea hit him so hard that it could have given him a concession with its impact. "I got it!"

He gave the other guy a grin, saying, "Thanks for old the weird ideas, you -" he fumbled for a suitable compliment, "-pungent reindeer king!" With that, he disappeared out of the laundry room, dashing off to hopefully/possibly/unlikely win his lady love.

Kristoff stared after him, then stared back at the washing machine. He was a peculiar guy himself, but he couldn't help wonder why all the people he met were weird people.

"I need to get out more," he said to himself. Himself was not that totally convinced.

* * *

Act 21: Where Our Hero Did a Daring

Our heroine was busy wearing a tight-lipped expression.

Really. That's pretty much all she was busy with.

Quite unluckily for her, she had finished all the homework that was to due tomorrow, the day after and the rest of her week. She had completed the necessary daily exercises that she did for every topic related to her finals, and she could not find a particular area of weakness that she needed to work on.

Well, her relationships with people around her could certainly do with some improvement, an inner voice told her. She shut down that voice almost immediately to continue staring at the writing sheet, because it was obviously a task that required much strain and concentration.

Her redheaded roommate, on the other hand, was just lolling around her bed, flipping through the school-issued magazine titled, 'Classic Greek Athletes, and How to Be as Perfect as They Are, Or So Help me, I Will Turn You Into A Bear and You Won't Even Know It.' It was a strangle title with an oddly-specific threat attached to it, but Elsa did not feel inclined at all to read such trash. It was a good thing Merida wasn't her sister, if not Elsa would have an even worse time trying to get her to change.

Then, there was a knock on the room door.

"You answer it," both girls said simultaneously to one another. Then, they lifted their heads to look at each other.

"The person who's being less productive with their time should answer," Elsa said, a note of finality in her tone. Her head turned back to the blank sheet of paper almost immediately.

She heard her redhead let out a huge groan, followed by the squeaking of bed springs as Merida moved sluggishly off the bed. She heard the shuffling of the girl's slippers towards the door while her own pen stayed poised over the sheet, not quite sure of what to write. The hinges creaked as the door opened, and suddenly, Elsa heard singing – not very good singing, _"Wise men say, only fools rush in, but-"_

Merida slammed the door with a squeak. When Elsa swerved her chair around, she found the girl hopping around, looking rather flustered. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG?" Her roommate was clutching her own curls so tight that she seemed to intend to yank them off her scalp. "THERE'S A GUY SINGING OUTSIDE OUR DOOR! THAT'S WHAT'S WRONG!"

"There's no need to panic," Elsa began as she watched the girl fluttering around, pacing the floor in jitters.

"Yes, there is," Merida said quite emphatically, slipping unconsciously back to her native Scottish accent the more anxious she became. "Thaur ur these laddies 'at hae bin tearin' efter me, wavin' their tickets an' askin' me tae Prom! Ah ken it's supposed tae flatterin', but Ah jist cannae tak' th' pressure anymair!"

Elsa just turned her eyes heavenward and sighed. Rising from her seat, she told her roommate, whose spews were becoming increasing incoherent, "Why don't you go and hide under the bed while I scare whoever it is away?"

Merida apparently thought it was brilliant idea, for she promptly transferred herself to the underside of her bed, curling up underneath. The blonde senior watched this obedience to her suggestion with a quizzical expression before approaching the door. There was a sharp rebuke on the tip of her tongue as she pulled it open, but that was lost when the white-haired boy continued, _"But I ... can't ... help ... falling in love with -"_

Elsa slammed the door shut, pressing her back against the door. When she heard silence outside, she decided to open the door again, just to check that her eyes weren't seeing things. Actually, she quite hoped she was seeing things.

But no. He was still there, and he was still singing, _"Shall I stay? Would it be a -"_

She shut the door hurriedly again. Then there was silence.

She opened the door.

 _"-sin? If I-"_

She closed the door. Quiet again.

She opened it again.

 _"-can't...help...-"_

She slammed door, finding herself panting in exertion. Why was this happening? She was asleep, wasn't she? This were the things dreams were made of. Bad dreams.

Elsa pried open the door very slowly this time. There was no sound that greeted her this time, just quiet. The boy had both of his hands behind his back, standing straight, and he was looking horribly sober, unlike all the other times that she had seen him.

The last line ended quite weakly, _"-falling in love with you..."_

There was a questioning note at the end of it. His eyes, bright and blue, were looking at her. Waiting for her. The way dreamers would stare up to a sky of stars and wish for a sign.

Finally, she said, "Do you even know what love is?"

He didn't answer, his eyes falling to the floor, feet shuffling. She grabbed the rim of the door, about to push it shut when she heard him say, rather, quiet, "It's where you're safest - the most secure. Where you're protected and you protect. It's where you're at home."

That wasn't quite the answer she had expected. She expected some pish-posh about romance, or singing sonnets, or ever a dry, biological theory about brain signals.

Quite hesitantly, the blonde girl asked, "And, well, are you really-" she sucked in a breath "-in _love_ with me?"

"No," he confessed, raising his head, his eyes gleaming meaningfully. "But I think I moving towards it."

She leaned herself against the door frame, considering him. It made her look disinterested, impassive, but in reality, it was just to keep herself steady just in case she did anything strange. Like trip herself. Or faint. "Why?"

"Well, it helps that you are pretty." He noticed how her eyebrows deepened and hastily continued, "But, but, I also like how fierce you are, and how you care about your sister, and how you don't care about what other people think about you." His expression softened a little, and there was a smile. Not the smug smile, because if it was she would have shut the door on it. It was wistful smile, almost happy but not quite. "I like it when you're happy, and when you let yourself go, and I can't help but feel that, well, that I really, really like you and I want to make you happy and that I really hope that one day-" he nodded his head subconsciously, clenching his hands to his side "-I'll really be able to love you as much as you deserve."

The syntax was wrong; there were clearly too many 'ands' used in that little speech of his, but Elsa found that her usual pickiness did not quite pick this up. Instead, she would an curious stirring in her heart. Was it pity? Not quite. Was it love? Certainly not. She didn't even know...

It was a foreign feeling for Elsa to not know what to do. Even in tackling her relationship with her sister, she knew some ways forward. Sure, they were poor methods and often led to disastrous results. But at least she had a direction for it. There were no signposts for this one.

After a long moment of staring at the white-haired boy, who was panting after his long and grammaticallly-flawed confession, Elsa was still tongue-tied. In her mind, she was penning out a kind refusals, tinted with apologies and promises that she did not think of him in the way that he thought of her. Yet, another part of her mind wondered how rare it was for a person to think of another in such a fashion. There were plenty of people who fell in and out of love, like Anna did, but perhaps it was because they rushed too hastily into the relationship, such that they sought first to take, rather than to give.

It was then she said, "Fine."

He gazed up at her, confused.

Elsa tensed as she prepared herself to confirm it. "I'll go to Prom with you. But-" she held a finger out at him as his jaw fell open "-I've got conditions."

He nodded it bit to eagerly.

"One, I pay for my own things – ticket, dress, even the possible, excruciatingly painfully-" she let out a huff of exasperation "-limo transport, and you pay for your own. You're not even allowed to get me a bouquet of flowers, clear? I don't want to owe you anything."

He considered it for a second, trying to look serious, but there was a smile creeping onto his face. "Okay."

"Two,-" she kept her expression steely, "-we're going to study very hard. I don't care if everyone else is partying everyday, but we're studying. We have finals. They are important."

"Yes, m'am." He was grinning again – that insufferable grin. Oh, how she wanted to beat it off him. Now she was regretting this.

"Three, you don't get in any more trouble." Elsa increased the severity of her tone, hoping that he was taking her seriously. "I have standards, Jack. I don't associate with troublemakers and hooligans, and I won't be seen with them in public as much as possible, and certainly not as a Prom."

"I'll be the model student," he promised, even crossing his heart. "You'll be proud."

"Good." She beamed at him. "Now, go away."

"Sure! Great! I'll see you then-"

She slammed the door in his face. There was an odd sensation rising in her chest, one that seemed to be full of satisfaction. But it wasn't the temporal kind that she got when she managed to talk down to an idiot. Elsa actually, well, felt happy about this idea. Sure, Prom was still going to be a waste of money. The advertised glamor and glitz was just sham. But perhaps it would not be completely horrible after all.

When Elsa turned around, she found Merida out under the bed and twiddling on her phone, grinning wickedly.

"I'm going to make a GIF of you slamming the door in his face," the redhead informed her merrily.

The blonde decided not to comment on this.

* * *

Act 22: Where the King Got His Thank You Note

His hoodie was hanging out to dry now, so he couldn't wear it to sleep as he usual did, but he didn't care. He was lying on his bed in his dorm, beaming at the ceiling, feeling at peace with the world.

She said yes, and he didn't even have to ask her this time. She just did it herself.

He was going to Prom with Elsa! Yes!

He wondered what did the trick. Was it the singing?

It was probably the singing.

"Thank you, Elvis!" He pumped a fist up in the air.

He then realize that his roommate, who was also lying on his own bed, in the middle of texting on his phone, gazed at him with bewildered expression.

Jack deadpanned, "Not you."

Bunnymund then snapped out his trace, quickly blabbing to cover up his error, "Me? Me? What do you mean? I'm not Elvis. I don't know anything about Elvis."

Jack rolled his eyes, but he didn't tease the fuzzball. He shut his eyes and leaned back on the pillow. The moon was shining through the windows as a full circle.

Today was a good day.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed that weirdness, though I feel this chappie was more serious and less light-hearted than its predecessors. I did not expect to throw in a kiss that early, but I figured if it'd happen at this time, it'd happen like that. How will everyone else react to this startling development? Stayed tuned like tuning fork.**

 **Elvis songs ftw!**

 **Reviews would be appreciated and I hope you too will have a good day.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Greetings, all! Here's the next part.**

 **I apologised that this chapter was not checked and is probably full of grammatical errors. I'm extremely busy at the moment as I have just started college. As such, my other stories, The Wrath of Five and More Than A Bird will experience a drop in the frequency of updates, and same for this story. I'll need some time to adapt to these changes, so bear with it please.**

 **That aside, I hope you enjoy this! And if you spot a grammatical error, feel free point at your screen and laugh hard at how silly it is.**

* * *

Act 23: Where Relationships were Examined and Chemistry not Studied

It was a bright sunny morning half-way through chemistry class and she had a date for Prom.

 _She._ The Snow Queen. Going to that that pitiful waste of time and money, just because some pathetic soul serenaded her at her dorm door, and serenaded really poorly too. He was a terrible singer. She made a mental note to keep him away from anymore Elvis discography if possible. Even the King of Rock did not deserve such treatment.

That said, she had to admit that the idea of going to Prom with him was not completely abhorrent. He was a rather amusing character and occasionally – very occasionally, she stated in her mind, for she refused to confess it at any higher level – humorous. Despite his annoying persistence and magnetism for trouble, he did not seem overtly crude or overbearing. She could handle him well enough such that the whole event – she refused to think of it as a 'date' – would end off with a handshake and the parting of ways. She doubted that she would ever see him again after graduation. She had plans for her life, after all, and she figured that he most probably didn't for himself.

But enough about the future. Our blonde heroine currently occupied with matters of the present and surprisingly, it wasn't about the chemistry lesson itself. Her notebook had been flipped to the correct page and her arm rested on the right section of the exercise sheet, but her thoughts were occupied with a composition that she had hoped to address to her sister.

Regardless of what she might have said or how she might have acted, the confrontation that Elsa had had with Anna two nights ago gnawed on her mind as the vultures gnawed on Prometheus' liver. She still thought Anna could certainly do better in terms of her life choices, but the rift that that opinion had ripped between them was growing deeper by the day and unresolved, it might very well be that they might cease communication all together once Elsa went to college. Despite her cold demeanour, the blonde did not have a heart of ice and this was not an outcome she really desired.

So the blonde girl began to draft out some possible letters to Anna on her note book. Some of them went like this:

 _Dear Anna,_

 _I am sorry for not giving my blessing to you with regards to your relationship with Hans – mostly that I'm sorry that you can't see him for the garbage that is._

That was not a good way to start. She scribbled over it and started again.

 _Dear Anna,_

 _I don't want to fight you about Hans. I suppose that you're old enough to make your own judgement about who you want to date – even if that date really deserves a punch in the face._

Scrapped.

 _Anna,_

 _I suppose that we should learn to agree to disagree when it comes to our different tastes in men, especially since your taste needs serious work._

Scrapped.

 _Anna,_

 _If you continue clinging to Hans, I have no choice but to disown you as a sister._

Scrapped.

 _Anna,_

 _Why can't you be like me and l_ _eave relationships till after graduation? (And I don't mean after high school. I mean after college – inclusive of post-tertiary studies. In a matter of fact, why not join a convent while you're at it?)_

Scrapped.

"Ms. Arendelle,-" a high-pitched voice broke her reverie. Duke Weselton, the weasel-like tutor for the chemistry class today, was staring down at her through his circular lens. "-could you give us the answer for next question?"

The blonde girl raised her head, eyes widened in shock. Her classmates' heads were all turned towards her and expectant faces waited for the perfect, polished answer that the Snow Queen always had. And the perfect answer, the Snow Queen had.

Except, she wasn't sure which question it was.

"Well-" she sat herself up, covering her scribbles with the back of one hand while flipping through her notebook, "-the unknown substance is green, which suggests that it might have copper in it-"

"We have already covered that question, Miss Arendelle," Mr. Weselton interrupted, looking rather smug as he pointed out her error. There was some spiteful sniggering behind her, which stopped only after she had turned her head fiercely in that direction. "You should pay better attention in class instead of doodling."

Doodling! If he wasn't a teacher, she would have returned a cutting remark about he should pay better attention to teaching instead of obsessing about his toupee – which was in itself was a crime of fashion. But she couldn't risk offending him any further, just in case she needed to get a referral from him in the future, so she silently dropped her head back into the books, seething inwardly.

The snotty old man seemed suitability appeased by her show of humiliation and turned his head to another of his students instead. "Mister Westergaard, would you answer, please?"

Elsa scowled down at her notes. The pencil in her hand almost broke the force that she had used on it.

"It would be my pleasure," Hans – that despicable, two-faced dirtbag - answered, tone smooth and thick with condescension. He wasn't looking at her, but his manner was clearly directed at her while he read out his answer - which, though correct, was nowhere as thorough as her own. In her mind, she was looping a noose around his neck and dropping him from the gallows.

Two questions later, she was still not quite focused on the lesson, brooding discontentedly about the humiliation. She glared piercingly at the redheaded boy sitting nearer down the front, not listening to the answer that another classmate presented while Weselton continued to pretend that he was actually teaching anything.

Then, she heard the crackle of paper and looked down at her table. Out of nowhere, a crumpled paper ball had appeared, sitting innocuously on the edge. She glanced about, wondering where it could have come from. She picked it up, unfolding it and straightening it subtly on her desk. A page ripped from a school magazine issue, showing photo of Hans in a formal suit receiving some award that he didn't deserve. The photo had been vandalised with a dark blue marker, which had drawn the beaming redhead an extremely large moustache and comically enlarged eyes. A speech bubble was drawn next to him mouth, saying, _"I'm a douche! Kick me! :D"_

She was not usually a receiver of secret pass-down messages of the classroom, and certainly not one of graffitied images. Such activities were often a distraction and she found little use in them. That said, Elsa couldn't help raising a brow in amusement. Gazing up more carefully this time, she noticed that seated a row away was the white-haired boy, cheek rested against knuckle as he sluggishly scribbled something on his notes. When he found her looking his way, he winked slyly, before reassuming his bored expression.

Self-control told her tuck the sheet under her desk and focus on lessons, but Elsa found her finger reaching for the markers in her case. Besides, she was certain that all her answers were right.

She pulled out a bright red marker and pressed it the crumpled sheet. As hopelessly juvenile as it was, she drew demon horns on the boy's head and added a pointed trident in his arm. She added a speech bubble, scrawling in large caps, 'BEHOLD. I WILL CONQUER THE WORLD WITH MY PRETENTIOUSNESS.'

Elsa folded the sheet up neatly, carefully ensuring that Weselton's gaze was not on her as she did. She then leaned slightly towards her left and handed the folded sheet to the person seated there. When this student glanced up at her in puzzlement, she quickly nodded towards Jack's direction, before bending herself over her books, just in case Weselton glanced her way.

Less than a minute later, she noted from the corner of her eye a ball of paper sailing in the air, landing precisely on her table. So that was how he got it there in the first place. Crunching the sheet expressionlessly in her palm, she checked her surroundings. Weselton was busy hounding another student in order to bolster his own ego and the students around her were either busy taking notes or dozing off. She unfolded the sheet.

The blonde girl had to choke back a laugh as when she read the addition he made. After her 'PRETENTIOUSNESS', he had scribbled 'AND SIDEBURNS' and proceeded to colour the said sideburns dark blue, pointing an twirly arrow at them with the annotation – 'can't grow real beard.' He added an arrow at the award that Hans was receiving and wrote, 'First Class Honors in Snotty-Potty Pottiness.' With a perfectly straight face, Elsa made her own editions before folding the sheet up again and handing it to her left once again.

This happened a few more times, with Jack also tossing the sheet as a ball onto her table and she passing it back to him folded neatly. Eventually, the sheet became too cluttered to do anything more, so he had it swapped for an blank exercise sheet, with a written message.

 _What are you doing after classes?_

Elsa rolled her eyes, before writing down her answer.

 _Studying, and guess what? You'll be too. That's our deal, remember?_

She folded the message back to him. The student who was helping her to pass it on was starting to look a little annoyed, but he still kept silent as he handed it over.

The reply came in the form of paper ball flying right in front of her face, startling her by its suddenness. Elsa shot a glare at the white-haired boy, who looked sheepish at his error in approximation. She opened up paper and read his reply.

 _Yeah, but don't we need to buy tickets? Today's the last day._

Elsa pursed her lips together, before scribbling her reply down.

 _Fine, but after that it's studying. No more fooling around._

She sent the message back to him. The student looked even more annoyed. She just put on her frosty expression.

From her side of the table, Elsa watched the boy unfold the paper and read it. He then turned towards her and made an 'ok' sign, grinning that infuriating grin.

It was then that it occurred to her that he had written 'we' on the message. Oh, no. She could freely admit that he wasn't the complete menace that she thought he was, but there was no way she would have them seen together more than necessary. And going to a prom counter together? If the school gossip was grassland, that incident would be the spark to a booming wildfire. Most importantly – what would Anna think when she heard of this? No doubt she would be furious. After preaching so much about not going head first into relationships with guys one did not know well, it would seem hypocritical to go out with a boy who started stalking her out of nowhere.

Except that he got into a lot of trouble. And that he had a very irritating grin. And sometimes he'd wear this wistful look and gaze off into the distance sadly. And that he thought that he was falling in love with her.

Wait. Draw the breaks there. She was not in a relationship with Jack Frost. They weren't even going on a date. They were just … prom dates. The end. Anyone who said otherwise might get an ice block to the head.

She quickly scribbled something on her notebook, then ripped the sheet out. Folding it, she handed it to the student sitting on her left, who at this point was looking quite displeased.

"This is the last. I promise," she told him. The student grudgingly took the slip and passed it on to Jack.

The white-haired boy's face brightened when he received the message, but fell after he read its contents. Slowly, he folded the sheet back along its creases. Not quite looking at her, he directed a nod towards her direction. After taking in a deep breath, he even allowed himself a wane smile.

Despite being quite socially-handicapped, Elsa was not a fool enough to miss the hurt in his expression. But she hardened her heart. If she was going through this monstrosity of a school event, she did not want mistakes with regards to their relationship with each other – in which, they did not have a relationship.

"Mr. Frost," Weselton's squeaky voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She whipped her head around in time to see the old man adjusting his glasses on his prominently pointed nose, eyes narrowed on the white-haired boy, "do you mind answering the next question? Or are you too busy daydreaming?"

She watched as the white-haired boy opened his mouth to give a retort, only to shut it the next instant when he realized that anything he said could potentially land him in greater trouble – one of the things that they agreed he would not be getting in anymore. So he merely swallowed and muttered, "Sorry, Mr. Weaseltown – I mean, Weselton."

The teacher certainly did not miss his slip up, evidently by how the wrinkled contours of his face twisted into a frown, but with Jack's polite pose, he could only rebuke, "Well, I expect that this won't be happening again. Considering how good you and Miss Arendelle are at completely ignoring class, both of you should get together."

People in the class laughed at his sad attempt at a joke, partially because they were bored and sleepy, partially because the notion itself was hilarious – the Snow Queen and the Troublemaker? That was so laughable that if laughable was an element in the periodic table, it would be under the first period with how explosive it was, except that it didn't need hydration for that.

Eventually, the humor – or lack of – in the situation died and the monotony of the class resumed itself. Well, that was until a paper ball landed in front of her once more.

She unfolded it with a raised brow, and released an inward groan of frustration after she read it.

 _Clearly, we have chemistry together._

She sent a withering look in his direction, and only received a grin and a thumbs-up from him.

It was very tempting to smash that the paper ball in his face.

* * *

Act 24: Where We Have a Reprise of Act 14

Procrastination was a disease that often had a remarkably high infection rate amongst high school students, and the peak of its symptoms was observed in the form of a flustered haste that came about when the deadline was especially close.

For example - one hour before the Prom sales booth ended officially.

Tooth was bravely fending off the victims of the plague, flailing her arms wildly and pointing fiercely at them.

"Line up! For goodness' sake!" She swatted away a hand that reached for the stack of tickets sitting on her desk. "No! No! No pay, no tickets! Don't think I didn't see that! And you! Queue cutter! We have a first-come, first-serve policy here. If you wanted your tickets earlier, you should have booked them online. Really!" She huffed as some of the more violent booth-hoggers finally retreated, reluctantly going to join the end of the queue line. She shuffled around for her money box, sorting the coins back to their correct columns and fitting the notes back where they should be. "Why do we even have the booking website if people don't use it?"

"Hey, Tooth."

"No queue-cutting, get back in line you-oh." Upon raising her head, the girl realized that Jack was standing by the side of the sale booth, hands tucked in his jacket pocket, with an umbrella hooked to his arm. Noting his change in clothes, she asked, "Where's your hoodie?"

"Oh." He glanced down at the black jacket that he was wearing. "It's still in the washing."

"You're looking quite well despite that," Tooth noted as she collected the money from the next customer and handing the appropriate number of tickets to her. The happy customer let out a little squeal as she grabbed the flimsy paper tickets and skipped off in delight. Tooth just watched the display with a raised brow.

"Yep!" Jack was positively radiant. "I'm feeling great!"

"Wow." Tooth 'hmm-hmmed' with interest. "What made this change?"

"Wellll..." The boy shifted himself slightly, swinging himself from side to side, before leaning forward and saying in low voice, "let's say I got a Prom date."

Tooth gasped, covering her mouth. Her romantic heart was immediately stirred. "Oh, Jack. That's lovely! Who is it?"

"Eh, I don't think she wants me to say," the boy said, turning a little crimson but grinning too hard to care. "But I'm quite happy about it." Clearing his throat, he added, "Oh, yeah, I need a ticket."

Then Tooth frowned. Pointing at the snake of people all lined up in front of her, she said, "Nice try. Go and queue it out like everyone else."

"C'mon, Tooth." He pouted in a manner that was chopped and stamped to be completely adorable. The girl, knowing full well the power of the pout, turned her head to the next customer, counted the money and handed out the money. "Please."

"No, Jack." She waved him off. "No favouritism. Go and line up."

"I'm your best friend."

"You're one of my best friends," she corrected.

"That's still pretty close."

"No, Jack."

He placed his palms together. "Please."

"Just go and line up."

"Like all of them?" He gestured towards the people down the line, impatiently tapping their feet and scrolling through their phone feed. "C'mon. It'd take forever."

"It wouldn't if you just started queuing now," Tooth answered without pity, taking the next wade of cash and exchanging it for a wade of tickets.

"I'll do something for you."

"Oh?" That got her a little interested, but she didn't want to show it too obviously. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she asked him with narrowed eyes, "Like what?"

"I'll do your homework."

"Funny." She snorted at him. "You don't even do your own homework, Jack."

"O-kay." He pondered heavily for another idea. "I'll do your laundry."

"I've seen how you do laundry, Jack," the girl said, as she recorded the serial numbers of the sold tickets on her laptop, before selling another batch. "No."

"I'll help you ask Bunnymund to Prom."

"You did that in Act 15, Jack," Tooth deadpanned in complete seriousness, unaware that the author writing this had placed an odd set of words in her mouth. Of course, the author was sniggering away at this while the readers merely pulled faces at the line and shrugged before carrying on their reading. "Besides, he already answered a very reluctant 'fine'."

"Please, Tooth," the boy begged. "It's for love."

"If you're so in love, why don't you just queue up like everyone else?"

"Because-" he pressed his forefingers together, "-I'm… really… really… lazy."

Tooth looked at him with a inscrutable expression. He made the pouting face again.

The girl rolled her eyes heavenward with a sigh, giving in. "Fine. But you tell me who she is."

The boy's face brightened immediately, thrusting his crumpled notes. "Thanks, Tooth!"

The girl shook her head, ripping a ticket from the stack. "Name first, then ticket, Jack."

"Fine." He bent himself down and gestured for her to shift nearer to him. After she did, he whispered the name in her ear.

She drew back, surprised. " _You?_ Since when?"

"Since a long time," the boy answered, flushing slightly.

She gazed at her friend critically. "I don't know what she sees in you."

"Excuse me!"

"She's clearly out of your league."

"Well, that's true, I suppose," Jack confessed ruefully. After he took the ticket from her, he hastily added, "Don't tell anyone."

"Of course not," Tooth answered, waving him along. "Now, go on, and don't get into trouble."

"Yes, m'am." He gave a cheeky nod before dashing off, waving his ticket victoriously like a flag.

Most unfortunately, Tooth quickly forgot what she had agreed to do as soon as she got absorbed back into counting the earnings and giving out the tickets. Later that evening during dinner, her tired self started thinking aloud and one of her dining mates caught on to her muttering on how 'what on Earth did the Snow Queen see in Frost' and how 'this was going to be an interesting Prom'. This dining mate possessed an account on social media which allowed her to post certain posts on the school-based confession blog, and after a few minutes of keying this in, had started out threads of discussions by people who clearly did not know either party in person.

Seeds of a rumor had been sown, and the weeds began to take root.

* * *

Act 25: Where the Sisters Spoke. Sort of.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but it was never specified if the woman scorned could have been a sister. If it could be, then Anna fit the bill perfectly.

Being an avid follower and reader of all things social media in order to drown out the dullness of her own life, she had discovered a rather alarming tweet that had her storming up to her sister dorm right after dinner time. She ignored the texts that she was receiving from Rapunzel telling her that she was late for her meeting with the reading club. She was boiling inside, and that wrath needed an outlet.

Now, in the past, when Anna needed to wreak her temper, she would engage in the gorging of chocolate or screaming in a pillow. However, she was feeling particularly moody at the moment. Hans hadn't been answering her texts since this morning and she had been scolded in class thrice for not submitting 'satisfactory' work. She was going to main source of her frustrations and oh, boy, she was going to hand it a piece of her mind.

Of course, these were the goals that she had set for herself when she rapped her fist against the door. "Elsa, are you in there?"

There was silence, which was always the answer, so she reached for the knob. Before she touched it though, the door swung open. Anna was stupefied, task temporarily forgotten. It had been the first time this door had opened after she knocked it.

Scratch that. She completely forgot what she was here to do.

"Anna," her sister greeted her. There was a mark of surprise on the blonde's face as she gazed at her sister. Unlike the previous times, she did not seem annoyed or irritated by the visit, just merely curious.

"E-Elsa," the younger girl answered, trying desperately to collect her thoughts but found to her dismay that they had already scattered themselves. It then occurred to her that this was the first time in ages she had ever seen Elsa with her hair down and without her gloves on. Behind her, the table was still stacked with homework screaming to be done, but there was no especial anxiety in the blonde's expression to return to it. "Hi."

"Hi," her sister repeated back, seeming a little awkward herself. The fight that they had just a two nights ago was still fresh in their minds, but neither of them really wanted to bring that up.

Because they chose not to do that, they spent a good moment staring at each other, then staring at the floor, then staring at the ceiling, then back at each other. After a good five minutes, their eye muscles had obtained a thorough workout but nothing had been conveyed.

Determined to get something out of her mouth, Anna blurted out, "So, you're going to Prom." She couldn't help the accusing note that she placed on the word 'Prom'.

"Yes," was Elsa's short answer. No explanation was offered, which struck a bitter chord in Anna.

"Well, I thought you said you weren't," the girl said, raising her voice unintentionally.

"I changed my mind," was the impassive reply.

"Why? And who's-" she squinted at her phone "-Jack Frost? Hang a sec. Isn't that the senior guy with white hair?"

"Yes," Elsa confirmed, cocking her head to the side questioningly.

"He came to talk to me last time about you," Anna mused, lowering her phone as she pondered this. That particularly occurrence now made sense. She swung to her sister. "So … are you guys dating?"

There was no hesitation. "No."

"Are you guys _thinking_ of dating?"

"No."

"Do you even like him?"

"He's amusing at times, but not really. No."

Her brows furrowed together. "Then why are you even going to Prom with him?"

Elsa shrugged. "Oh, I suppose I feel sorry for him."

 _'Oh? Don't suppose you ever felt sorry for me?'_ A disgruntled thought rang in her head and Anna frowned. She also felt an inkling of pity for the white-haired boy. From the insistence of his manner, she had felt that he had been sincere in trying to win over his sister. Did he know how completely apathetic her sister was towards him?

"Besides, it's just Prom. Once it's done, we'll probably never see each other again."

Anna was seething. Of course, it was just 'Prom' to Elsa. She had no sense of magic - no sense of excitement. She didn't understand what Prom meant. It was the celebration of friendships, relationships, school-life and coming-of-age. Of course, Elsa had none of these to celebrate, not even the 'coming-of-age' part. She was already a cynical old woman on the inside.

"You shouldn't lead him on," the brunette girl suddenly spewed out. This statement earned an expression of astonishment from Elsa, and immediately Anna wanted to retract it. But the stubbornness in her wouldn't let her back down. "He really likes you and it's horrid that you treat him like that. It's like you're just using him to feel better about yourself."

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite get that." Elsa's voice was dangerously low. Her eyes, which had glazed over in shock at first, now hardened, glaring down at her sister.

Anna however had gained momentum and she had no intention of stopping. "You're only going to him with Prom because you 'feel sorry for him'. So really, you're just going with him so that you can feel like you're actually doing him a favour – that you're being generous. But if you know that you can't reciprocate his feelings for him, well-" she fumbled a little for words as she fumed "-you shouldn't make him think that you can."

"I _don't_ make him think that we are-" the blonde began hotly, but Anna sliced through her speech mercilessly.

"People's feelings aren't something to be trifled with, Elsa," the girl went on, her own gaze smouldering. "It might seem really small to you, but maybe to him, it's probably huge – enormous, even. The further you drag it on, the harder he'll take it in the end." In voluntarily, she felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she refused to raise a hand to wipe them off, no matter how painful the memories of a friendless childhood, no matter how disappointed she had felt at all the unanswered knocks she had experienced over their growing years. Ruefully, she muttered, "But then, what do you know about love?"

The elder girl was speechless. That might have even been a flicker of guilt in her expression. But if there was, Anna didn't care. She marched away, only letting her tears flow once she was half-way across the corridor. She turned sharply around the corner, making her way to the staircase and climbing down, her heart ramming against her chest with rage and resentment.

As she roughly swung herself slid her arm down the railing, she felt a vibration against a hip. She dug into her pockets for her phone and checked it. It was Hans.

Finally! She swiped her finger against the screen, a watery smile appearing on her lips as she read the message. A few seconds later, her face crumpled.

She sunk down in the middle of the steps, phone tossed uncaringly aside as she buried her face in her arms. As she sobbed her heart out, she thought about how wonderful the white-haired senior must feel right now, and how horrible he would feel later. She would know. She knew what it was to love, and definitely what it was to have it thrown back in her face.

~~~0~~~

Act 25: Where Our Hero was Chivalrous and a Pretty Good Tissue-Box Holder

Bunnymund was staring at him he had the plague, paintbrush and egg frozen in mid-air as he ogled him from across the dorm.

"What?" Jack finally said, unable to take it any longer. He couldn't do the essay with the other boy's eyes drilling into him the way they were right now.

"You're studying," his roommate said, as if it the statement was enough to explain everything.

"Yes?" Jack arched a brow at him, twirling his pen in his hand.

"You _never_ study," Bunnymund declared emphatically, tone dripping with disbelief.

"Yes, I do. How else did I pass all my exams last time?"

"You didn't pass half of them, and those that you did was by lucky guessing," Bunnymund retorted.

Jack opened his mouth to launch a smart-alec response of his own, but then he had to admit that the Australian was right. "Okay, whatever."

"So why are you studying? Hmm?" his roommate eyed him suspiciously. "Are you some kind of robot made by the Evil Watercooler Federation to replace Jack Frost?"

"…No." Jack was quite stricken by the odd comment.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

A sly grin appeared on the white-haired boy's face. He began to sing in his usual, mostly off-key manner, _"Well, it's one for the money. Two for the show-"_

Bunnymund raised his arms in surrender. "Okay, I believe you."

But Jack had no intention of stopping it. _"Three to get ready. Now go, cat, go!"_

"Stop it."

 _"But don't yooouuu,"_ Jack drawled out the word on purpose, scribbling the question number on the side of his paper while swinging himself back and forth, _"step on my blue suede shooeeess."_

"Shut it, Frost!" the Australian snapped at him.

 _"You can do anything, but stay off of my blue suede shoooeeesss."_ He was clearly enjoying himself.

" _Frost_ ," Bunnymund growled, nearly cracking the egg clenched in his large hand.

"What's wrong, Elvis?" the boy grinned toothily at him, snapping at the same time. "Someone stepping on your blue suede shoes?" He began to hum to himself, tapping his feet at the same time under his desk according to the rhythm, _"Blue, blue, blue suede shoes. Blue, blue, blue suede shoes."_

"I swear I will throw this in your face," the Australian threaten, even raising the egg high up.

Fortunately, a buzz was heard from Jack's phone at that moment, distracting him from teasing his roommate. Glancing down at the screen, he found that he had received a message from Kristoff. Despite the latter having punched him in the face just yesterday, the two boys got on suitably well such that they had exchanged numbers after the 'laundry talk'. The blonde junior student had admitted then that he didn't actually have many friends in the school (actually, he didn't have friends. Period) so having someone's number for purely social reasons was quite a novelty.

Of course, Jack didn't quite expect that the first message he'd receive from the large bulky boy would be: ' _SOS_.'

Wondering what it could be, Jack typed back, ' _Clarify please.'_

What he got back was, _'Do you know how to deal with crying girls?'_

Jack answered back with a frown, _'What did you do?'_

 _'Not my fault,'_ the next message insisted. _'She's just sitting in the middle of the staircase crying a river. Literally. Like there's a stream of water flowing down the steps.'_ A few second later, another message came, _'She must be really dehydrated. Should I offer her water?'_

While Jack struggled to type his response to him, another message came, _'Offering water didn't work. She looked at me as if she wanted to rip my hair out. Help!'_

Jack rolled his eyes. He wasn't the most social or sensitive of people, but he definitely much better at both than the reindeer-obsessed blonde boy.

He typed in his phone, _'Don't do anything. I'll come over.'_

After getting the location from Kristoff, Jack sped out of his dorm, carrying nothing but an umbrella, his wallet and a box of tissues. He zoomed down the corridor, stopping when he arrived at the staircase. Climbing down two floors, he found the blonde boy hovering around both anxiously and awkwardly. A distinct sound of sobbing echoed up the stairwell, confirming the cause of Kristoff's distress.

"What took you so long?" the junior student hissed at him. He donning a sweater with a red and green reindeer motif – a rather Christmassy theme for the wrong time of the year. The boy was clearly out of his element here. Without waiting for Jack to answer, he pointed down to the girl huddled on a step two flights down. "I hope you've got some ideas."

Jack, in a matter of fact, did.

He crept down the stairs, trying to step lightly as not to alarm the crying girl. Unfortunately, the soles of shoes squeaked as he neared her and he heard words of scorn muffled by sobs, "I don't want a drink with you, you jerk! Go away!"

If that was how Kristoff phrased his words, it was no wonder it had offended the girl. But rather than focusing on how the blonde kid needed to improve his social skills, Jack was startled to discover that he recognized the voice. Hopping down the steps two at a time, he turned himself about to face the girl. The twin braids with a streak of white woven in one of them confirmed his suspicions. "Anna?"

The girl lifted her head, rubbing her palm against her eye. Her face was crimson and wet, with hair strands sticking to her cheeks in a manner that wasn't too attractive. "Oh. It's you." She sniffed, looking away from him as she tried to cover her face.

The boy sat himself next to her, keeping a gap between them as not to make her uncomfortable. Without a word, he proffered the tissue box. Her head tilted towards it slightly as she considered it, before turning away sharply. A few second later though, she turned back, grabbing at the tissue pieces so hard that the box almost flew out of Jack's hand.

As she dabbed her tears away, Jack noted where she had thrown her phone. He debated on whether he should pick it up, but decided that if she threw it, she probably didn't like it much at the moment. It was best not to offend her.

So he sat there silently as a tissue box holder, watching quietly as she tossed the tissues on the ground and grabbed more from him, blowing her nose as she did. The whole situation gave a sense of deja vu and he almost wanted to smile, had it not been highly inappropriate for him to do.

After one particularly long sniffle, the girl mumbled, "Boys suck."

"Yes, they do," he answered sympathetic, holding the tissue box closer to her so that she could reach it.

She rolled the sheets that she had in her hand and threw it hard against the wall and grabbed more from him. "I hate them."

"You should," he said with a perfectly straight face, nodding gravely.

"She was right." Anna hugged herself by the knees. Viciousness mixed with tears, she murmured, "He's a jerk."

He didn't need to guess who she was talking about. Elsa had complained enough about it. "Yes, he is."

"I should have never even bothered – why do I even bother?" she sobbed out, words not coming out quite coherently anymore as her sniffing got in the way. "Stupid – inconsiderate – idiot-"

Jack just went on nodding, his arm starting to hurt after holding up the cardboard box for so long, so he used his other arm to support it, trying not to wince too obviously.

"I really don't know anything about love," the girl confessed miserably, wiping her nose with one hand and brushing the strands from her forehead.

"You will," he answered. When she glanced at him, he emphasized it once again, "It's gets better."

She seemed to mull over his words for a bit as she wiped her eyes. Her shoulder sagged and back slumped with exhaustion by the outpour of emotion.

Quietly, he suggested, "Hungry?"

She shook her at first, then later, decided to nod fiercely instead.

"Well, I know a great sandwich place near here. It's open twenty-four-seven. Wanna go?"

She didn't answer, but she did push herself off the stairs, steadying her shaking self by grabbing the handrail. He grabbed the tissue from her hand and cast on the floor, but kept the tissue box tucked under his arm. Climbing down the steps, he gestured for her to follow, "C'mon, Em-" he caught himself in time "-Anna. This way."

He held the door open for her and she went through sniffing. Jack didn't follow her immediately, glancing up through the stairwell first. He noted that Kristoff was still hanging around there, looking quite relieved. Jack let couldn't help but grin at that. Despite what he had said about hating people, the blonde junior was not completely heartless.

"Hey," he called upwards. He pointed at the balls of discarded tissue sitting at the bottom of the steps. "Since you're here, go clear the trash."

He closed the door behind him before the blonde fellow could answer.

Anna had stopped at the girl's bathroom first, presumably to wash up, so Jack waited outside. While he did, he received a message on his phone.

 _'I see why people hate you,'_ Kristoff informed him bluntly.

Jack just cackled at that, typing back, _'If you want to try comforting the damsel in distress again, be my guest.'_

 _'Yeah, right,'_ was the scoffing answer. A few seconds later, _'Whoever the jerk is, he deserves a thorough defenestration.'_

Jack made a face. _'Wow. That's harsh.'_

 _'Really? I can actually think of worse things than throwing people out of the window.'_

 _'Oh. Is that what defenestration means? I thought it was…'_ he paused as he mused over whether he should write that out, _'nevermind. I suppose throwing Hans out of the window would be fun to watch too.'_

 _'Hold on. You mean Hans Westergaard? Like the douche with the sideburns?'_

Jack whistled in surprise. _'Yeah._ _You know him?_ _I thought you tried to ignore the existence of other people most of the time.'_

He could almost hear the guy snorting on the other side. _'It's hard to_ _ignore the_ _existence of the guy who shares_ _your dorm_ _.'_

Wait. Did he just –

Jack typed his question furiously, _'The roommate you were complaining about is Hans_ _?_ _'_

 _'Welcome to my life,'_ was the sardonic confirmation.

An idea then hit our hero right there and then, and within the recesses of his mind, it grew, till it was strong and impossible ignore.

"Jack?" the girl had emerged from the bathroom. Her face was still as red as a tomato and her eyes had streaks of crimson, but at least she wasn't crying anymore. Well, she was still sniffing, so he handed her the tissue box. She accepted gratefully.

"Give me a second," he told her, glancing down at his phone. He quickly typed out his final message to Kristoff, then said, "Okay, let's go."

The two of them walked side by side down the corridor, Anna still blowing her nose and Jack subtly making sure that she didn't bump into any pillars as she did. He heard a beep from his phone and allowed himself to check it.

 _'What time and what do you have in mind?'_

Jack grinned.

* * *

Act 26: Where The Ship sailed before Promptly Sinking

The sun rose. The birds chirped. These are all things we couldn't care less about.

What we do care about, however, was the news that had been flying all over school. By now, everyone had heard that the Snow Queen was actually going to Prom after snubbing it for so long, and of everyone she could pick to go it with she had chosen Jack Frost. Had the duo been keeping a secret relationship? Did Elsa Arendelle harbour an ice-related fetish that attracted her to boys with snow-related last names? These were all questions people bothered themselves with instead of the ones on their practice papers, because gossip was far more important than the test questions which could possibly determine where they were going in life.

Already, there were people who found the idea of the pair positively adorable and began setting up blogs to support their new-found 'ship' (they called it, well, _Jelsa_ , because they were frightfully uncreative). There were opponents who found the notion completely absurd, so they began going onto these blogs and writing long essays about their views and why it mattered, then deciding to just spurt out a bunch of nasty, brainless comments when they ran out of clever things to say. It never occurred to their parties to merely ask the two people involved in the 'ship' for the truth, and it probably never would occur to them, because that would spoil the fun.

These people clearly had nothing better to do in their lives.

If there was one thing that people were talking about that was not about the pros and cons of 'Jelsa', it would be about the terrible fate that befallen one redheaded senior. It was said that at some time after midnight, when he had returned from a 'study session' (or so he claimed), this particular student discovered that his bed had been covered by a mountain of ice cubes, and his closet too. His roommate had fervently denied being involved it, stating that he had camping over at another senior's room that night and had no clue about what had happened. This white-haired senior had confirmed that the roommate in question had indeed slept over at his dorm and both of them had spent the night watching a documentary on reindeer migration. The buff athlete that was the white-haired senior's roommate confirmed the duo was indeed watching the documentary all night and complained rather loudly that he had been unable to sleep at all thanks to them.

The perpetrators of this prank remained at large and Hans Westergaard went to school in thoroughly soaked clothes, looking completely offended with everyone. Everyone didn't care – they still took photos of him and uploaded it with the hashtag 'wetwestergaard.'

"You owe me for covering you," Bunnymund hissed at Jack as they both headed to their lockers. "And why did you have to really watch that documentary? I would have said that you were watching it anyway."

"Because Kristoff wanted to watch it." Jack was unflappable. "Besides, it was very educational."

"I really hate you," the Australian said, rubbing his forehead.

"Okay."

"Sometimes I think of throwing you out of the window while you're sleeping."

"You mean defenestrate."

"What?"

"It's a new word I learned. It means to throw out of the wind-" he cut himself off as they passed a familiar blond who standing by her locker. Her arms were folded and eyes were narrowed dangerously at him. "Oh, hey, Elsa."

"Do you know we're all over the school blog?" she was straight to the point.

"Um-" he wondered what he had done wrong "-yes?"

"I didn't spill a word of it to anyone, so it had to be you," she stated coldly. There was no room for argument.

He couldn't argue with the logic, though he had no idea how he was at fault exactly. "Um … sorry?"

She sighed, dropping her arms. "You're really an idiot."

"Yep," he nodded. We all know this too, but if you don't, you might want to reread the title of Act 1. Jack pressed his fingers together, asking nervously, "So, does this constitute me getting in trouble?"

He watched as she pursed her lips together, then admitted reluctantly, "I suppose not. You didn't do anything really wrong. This will be unpleasant, though, but I guess-" she made a disgusted face "-I'll get over it."

Jack's face brightened. "So we're still going together?"

She nodded with a sigh, which made him beam till he was almost as bright as the sun.

"Great! See you at Math!" He was literally skipping his way to his locker, leaving Bunnymund back in the crowd.

"Why do I even-" the other boy grumbled under his breath as he stalked off.

The white-haired boy was certainly in high spirits as he exchanged the notes from his bag for the ones in the locker, but that was soured after he had slammed the metal door shut and had it bolted.

"I thought I warned you, Jack," an eerie voice rang from his side.

Jack merely glanced up the taller student, completely unaffected. "Pitch the Itch. Nice to see you. How's your head?"

The pale-skinned senior scowled at the mention of his abject humiliation some days prior, but managed to compose himself. Putting on a cruel smirk, he said, "Oh, I'd worry about my own head if I were you. It's about to be served on a silver platter."

"As usual, you're talking like a textbook," was the white-haired boy's careless reply.

"Well, my good fellow, you should be more careful when you do your pranks," the smirk on Pitch's face grew wider by the second. He lifted his phone towards the shorter boy meaningfully. "You never know who's watching."

It took a moment for Jack to get it. Refusing to appear fazed, he said, "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" The to-be valedictorian student raised his brows challengingly. "Well, you'll know for sure in about-" he made a show of looking at his "-five seconds, I think."

Just then, the P.A. system blared out, _"Jack Frost and Kristoff Bjorgman, report to the Principal's Office immediately. I repeat, Jack Frost and Kristoff Bjorgman, report to the Principal's Office immediately."_

Pitch grinned triumphantly. Jack winced.

He peered down the corridor of lockers, where various people were staring his way expectantly. But he didn't meet their gazes, seeking out only one face.

One face that appeared very, very disappointed.

By how she silently pressed her lips together and turned sharply away, he knew that she figured it out.

He blew it. He really blew it.

Pitch watched on with a sadistic pleasure, folding his arms and sneering down at the other boy. "Like I said, Jack, you're fated to be alone."

* * *

 **Reviews would be awesome.**


	5. Chapter 5

Act 27: Where Our Hero took a Drink of Sombreness

Detention was highly subdued. Kristoff thought it was totally worth it, but Jack, well, for the first time, Jack wasn't sure.

He was completely quiet as he sat painting the toys, while the blonde junior student was the one chattering away about he had absolutely no regrets, even after he was forced to switch rooms due to his . Kristoff was even checking up on his phone every now and then to look at what was trending on the #wetwestergaard feed (apparently he made an Instagram account solely for this purpose) tag. Jack on the other hand spent a good deal of time staring out of the window, lost in thought.

He even assumed this form of behaviour after he had been called out of the classroom to the principal's office. North was there, rested in the ginormous swivel chair that had to be made-to-order for the large man's size. Whilr his principal spoke to him, the boy merely fixed his eyes on the wallpaper as if there was something truly absorbing about the Christmas motif.

Okay, okay, so the Christmas motif was adorable – what with all the cute little green presents and the Christmas trees and the winter bells - but that's not the point.

"You haven't heard anything I've said, have you?"

"Hmm?" The boy lifted his head towards the man, blinking.

Principal North sighed, rubbing a hand against his face. "Jack, Jack, Jack-" he shook his head "-what am I going to do with you?"

"You're … going to let me off detention?" the boy suggested hopefully, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"Nice try," the genial fellow guffawed good humouredly, then turned grave once again. "But I can't overlook this, Jack. It's going down on the naughty list."

Jack groaned, slouching back into his own chair. When North used 'naughty list', it referred to the discipline records. He had never minded what went on it before, but now that he thought of it, Elsa's 'naughty list' probably didn't even exist. She was the kind of girl who only got the 'nice list', with gold stars and stickers stuck around her name for flourish. The kind of girl that would never hang out with a loser like him, whose list of crimes included filling bathroom sinks with melted peppermint ice-cream and wrapping the freshman lockers in cling-wrap. Stuck together with glue. And caked in a layer of jam.

Tooth was right. She was totally out of his league.

He supposed he could explain it to her – that his actions were driven purely by the desire to protect her sister's honour and to punish the infuriating redhead that she had no love for. But that wasn't the point. The point was that there was a disjunction between them in terms of behaviour and attitude. She dealt with detestable people by being cold and haughty towards them. He dealt with them by purchasing three bags of industrial ice cubes at midnight, hauling up the stairs while trying not to get caught and dumping all of it over the target's bed. The closet was an afterthought when they had left-overs, and it was pretty genius, if he could say so himself.

"You do realize you're going to graduate soon, don't you?" His musings were once again interrupted by the Principal's deep voice.

"Yeah." He wrapped his arms around his chest, looking down at the floor now.

"Have you given thought to what you want to do?"

"No." Jack shrugged, running a finger idly down the plastic arm on his chair. Without really thinking, he added, "I like kids."

"Well, everything you do now may very well affect your chances of getting into a career of your choice. I might even have to write a reference for you." North's countenance twisted into an amused smirk as he said this. "Life's not always all fun and games, Jack. And, well, delivering justice."

The boy raised his head in surprise upon hearing the last few words. North's eyes bore a knowing twinkle in them.

The principal went on, "I don't doubt your intentions are good, Jack. But you have a rather unconventional way of going about it, a way that might not be appreciated by everyone. Perhaps, you could learn to express it a more -" the big man began gesticulating as he floundered for an adjective "- _legal_ manner."

The boy pulled a skeptical expression.

"Oh, and study hard for your exams. They're nearer than you think." North wagged a meaty finger at him, chuckling slightly.

Jack nodded, tucking his fingers into the pockets of the jacket. It was still too early this afternoon and his hoodie hadn't dried up. He was still stuck with this miserable excuse of a flimsy black jacket for his outer garment.

The principal let out a silent exhale as he noted the lacklustre response from the white-haired boy. Giving up, he gestured towards the door. "Well, you can return to the classroom to finish up your detention."

So Jack rose from his seat, dully shuffling himself towards the office door and reached for the knob. Before he turned it though, North cleared his throat and decided to try once again, "Jack?"

"Yes, sir?" The boy turned towards him.

"While life isn't _all_ fun and games, it does not mean it _shouldn't_ have fun and games. Just-" the man spread his arms out "-at the right place. At the right time. With the right people."

"Yes, sir."

"And-" just as Jack pulled open the door "-if there's anyone you ever need to talk about-" North purposely inserted a pause instead filling it with unwanted words "-well, you can talk to me, if you like."

The boy's clear blue eyes suddenly dropped to the floor once again, perhaps to hide the emotion that threatened to overwhelm them. Without the word, he removed himself from the office, allowing the door to fall back the frame with a distinct thud.

North sighed. He didn't quite know what would happen to that boy.

~~~0~~~

Act 28: Where Our Hero gained an Unexpected … Ally?

He tried to study. It was part of the pact, after all. Maybe if he presented a set of completed Chemistry exercises in class tomorrow, she would see that his sincerity was true. She would see that he did take their agreement seriously. She'd see that he was a man of his word.

But the numbers below him were an incomprehensible bunch of symbols that held no meaning to him. His pen twitched in his hand, eager to write, but his gears in brain were far too jammed to process any of the visual information. He was just frozen at his table, clenching the stationary very hard, eyes glued to the worksheet, not writing a single thing.

He had gone down earlier on to her room, hoping that perhaps he could try to negotiate things out. Her roommate had handed him a slip of paper before abruptly shutting the door on him. It had said quite succinctly,

 _No._

That slip of paper still stayed scrunched up in his fist.

At the back of his mind, he registered a knock on the room door. Usually, Bunnymund would yell at him to get it and he would yell at him to get it, and both of them would engage in an epic battle of rock-paper-scissor with a two out of three criterion for victory until the person outside was annoyed enough to just leave. However, the Australian student had seemed to realize that his roommate was truly distressed and had given him space for most of the evening, not spouting a single sarcastic curse. Jack was thankful, so in return he refrained humming greatest hits of the other boy's unfortunate namesake. Both of them had so far managed to spend a rather peaceful and civil evening together.

So when the knock came, Bunnymund rose from his desk without question. Jack heard the boy unlock the door and pull it open. "Yes?"

"Is Jack in?" he heard a cheery voice ring out. At first his face brightened, but then fell when he realized Elsa had never spoken in such a manner. She always sounded stiff and cold, controlled and reserved.

"It's yours, Frost," the Australian called out to him. When he didn't move, Bunnymund said, "Hey, Frost. Did you hear me?"

"I heard you. Chill, won't you?" Jack slapped the ball of paper down, throwing himself off the chair and marching towards the door. The visitor caught him by surprise. "Anna?"

The girl with the twin braid blushed, then waved at him. "Hi! Um, mind if we talked?"

Jack glanced back at his roommate, who had seated himself back and his desk and fiddling with his phone, pretending that he wasn't eavesdropping. He then moved them both out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

"Are you alright?" The white-haired boy scanned the junior student quickly for any sign of tear-stains, bloodshot eyes or reddened cheeks. Well, her cheeks were reddened alright, but by the wide grin beam she gave him, he rather doubted that it was one of sorrow.

"Oh, I'm fine. Um-" she toyed with one of braids awkwardly. He noticed that she was carrying something under her arm "-I heard that you're the one who pranked Hans."

"Eh, yeah," he admitted ruefully. It was a pity that rumors in school spread so quickly. While passing through the school walkway, he had run into the redheaded student who had proceeded to bombard him with shells of insults. Jack took a leaf from Elsa's book and stared the other senior boy down. He then swept himself around and didn't look back. He wasn't sorry that he pranked the revolting fellow – just sorry he got caught.

"People wonder why you did what you did, and, well, I know." She rubbed one palm against her elbow, not really meeting his eyes. "So, well, I just wanted to say thanks."

He shrugged. "Not a problem. It was fun."

"No, really." Anna swallowed, blinking fiercely all of a sudden. There was a tinge of anger in how she tightened her lips together, so fleeting that it disappeared almost instantly. "It was incredibly satisfying to see him miserable." She blinked once more, then looked up at him and smiled. "So, um, thanks. I never really had someone on my side before." It was subtle, but he could detect that the bitter note that had ended on and all that it implied.

There was no way that he could really address this, so he just said, "No problem. I really enjoyed it."

"But I heard that because of that, my sister and you might not be, well-" Anna trailed off, gazing up him intently.

"Um." He bit his lip. It was something he really didn't want to talk about right now. He stuck his hands into his pocket. "Yeah." He let out a breathy exhale. "I've a feeling she's not going to talk to me for a very, very long time."

"Oh. Okay." She seemed to process this her mind, before thrusting up a paper packet towards him as if to change the subject. "I made you something! It's not much and I don't suppose you like sandwiches as much as me, but I hope you like it."

Jack couldn't help but smile as he took her offering, the heaviness in his heart forgotten for the moment. It was a sweet gesture that seemed so domestic and so novel that it was impossible not to appreciate. "Cool. Thanks. I'll keep this as my midnight snack. In case, you know-" he raised his brow comically "-I decide to fill some douche's underpants with icicles again."

The girl giggled, subconsciously raising a hand to her mouth at the same time. Swaying herself slightly from side to side, she then asked with some trepidation, "Um, so, um, I was wondering if you're, well, er, _free._ After school. Tomorrow."

Jack creased his forehead as he ran over his mental schedule. He had rather hoped to spend the next afternoon studying with a certain blonde girl, but as far as he knew, they weren't speaking terms anymore. "Nope, I've got nothing on. Why?"

"Oh, Olaf's Summer Sorbet's having a one-for-one from three to six," Anna said in casual manner that was laced with a little nervousness. "I was wondering, well, if you'd like to, well, go with me."

"Sorbet?" He made a face. "Isn't that like frozen water?"

"They've got normal ice-creams too," the girl added hastily. Her eyes were pleading.

Well, now with that piece of information thrown in – "Okay. Why not?"

"Great!" She was beaming so brightly that he could have mistaken her for the sun. She yanked out her phone, swiping the screen then pointing it to him. "Could you give me your number? It'd be easier to find each other that way."

So phone numbers were exchanged before the girl bade him a hasty but very bubbly farewell, racing down the hall so as to return back to the girls' floor. He shook at his head at her, smiling as he reminiscenced about another young girl he had once known who probably matched the brunette in energy and enthusiasm.

When he went back into the room, he noticed that Bunnymund was seated back in his chair, flipping through feed on his phone and trying not to look as if he hadn't been pressing his ear against the door just a second ago. Jack didn't push the issue, heading back to his own table and setting down the packet. Unwrapping it carefully, he found within it a chicken salad sandwich cut in the shape of heart. He smiled. What a sweet kid she was!

"Hey, Bunny. Look what I got." He lifted up the sandwich to show his roommate. "Pretty neat, huh?"

The Australian narrowed his eyes at the food item, squinting so hard at it that Jack wondered if he was holding a snake and not a sandwich. Finally, Bunnymund said, "It's in the shape of a heart."

"Isn't that awesome?" the boy remarked, as he brought it over to his mouth and took a bite. "Hey, this is pretty good." Of course, he said it with a full mouth, so it sounded more like - _"Hhhfsh, thsssh ish shushush gooosh."_

Bunnymund however seemed to not notice the complete slaughter of the English language, only asking, "That girl – she's the sister of the Snow Queen, right? The beautiful girl _whom you_ _have a crush on_?"

Jack swallowed the food down, giving his roommate a sidelong glance. "Yeah. Why?"

It seemed that the other boy wanted to say something, but in the end just stated shortly, "Nothing."

"Hmph." Jack took another bite from the heart-shaped sandwich.

~~~0~~~

Act 29: Where Our Heroine Brooded – as if She hadn't Done Enough of that

There was something to be said about the passion of avid fans in sticking to whole-heartedly to their chosen objects of admiration. The perseverance and tenacity displayed was often a remarkable thing that was respected by those outside that circle.

That said, many times, fans could be annoying too.

"What do you mean you're not together? Both of you are adorable!"

Elsa gazed up at this strange girl whom she had never met and had certainly never shared her life story with - which was rather jarring, especially since this girl had decided to interrupt her solitude during lunch break to spill her opinion out to her.

The blonde girl pulled on the two gloves wrapped around her hands irately. "You do realize that this is none of your business, right?"

Gossip travelled far too quickly in this school. No sooner had the high school awoken that day than the news came about that the ice-power couple were no longer together. Reasons why were unclear, but 'reliable' sources stated that Jack Frost had called her a popsicle – sweet, but frozen - and she had taken offence, thus drawing an end to their short lived frostbitten romance. Unfortunately, the newfound cult of the Jelsa 'shippers' was far too aghast to accept such a turn of events, prompting one of their representative to seek out one half of the great 'ship' for a confrontation.

It was amazing how much effort they went through just for this, and what a remarkable waste it was. They could have spent it on doing something that was actually worthwhile.

"You two inspire us," the fangirl insisted fervently, clenching a fist before her chest for emphasis. "You guys make life worth living! It's like I-"

"This whole 'ship' thing only started yesterday, didn't it?" Elsa interjected coolly.

"Um, yes?"

"Well, then perhaps if you send a little less time on social media feed and spend a little more on self-reflection, it might occur to you that -" there was an ironic tug against her lip – how often had this been said to her every time she had refused a party? "-you should get a life." Flicking her hand derisively – "Now please go away."

The fangirl, suitably subdued, slunk away from the table, leaving the Snow Queen dine on the daily slop the canteen had so graciously provided. Her personal space regained, Elsa retrieved _Pride and Prejudice_ from her pile of work and began perusing it while she dug into the slobbering mess that claimed to be shepherd's pie.

As she was halfway through Mr. Darcy's proposal to Elizabeth, Elsa found that a shadow fell over the pages. Sighing, she raised her head, scowling in preparation to confront another 'shipper' who wanted to give her orders on how to manage her love life when she found that he who stood before her was the reason why she had decided that a love life was perhaps not really worth having. "Pitch."

The gaunt, pale fellow tilted his head towards her in a manner both measured and forward. "My dearest Elsa."

She frowned pointedly at him, dropping her head back into the book. "Don't 'dearest' me. I never liked it."

"Yes, yes." He snorted at that in amusement, taking the seat across her though he had not been welcome to. "You were never one for flowers, or love letters, though you do have a weakness for chocolates." She continued staring down at the book, giving no indication that she was listening. "Rather odd, considering you're reading a romance novel."

"It's part of the curriculum," Elsa told him bluntly, turning the page and trying to focus on the tags she had attached to it.

"Of course it is," he scoffed. "That completely explains why you're still reading it again after five years."

She pressed the pages down with her fingers, letting its spine land on the table with a testy thud. "Is there a point for you being here?"

"Well-" Pitch made a careless gesture "-perhaps it might regard a certain horribly overpriced depraved activity known as Prom. Now, now, I'm not going to ask you to it-" he added hastily when her brow shot above her silver-gold bangs "-I know that you despise such an opulent, bloated social gatherings of mindless fools as much as I do. So I've come to offer you a more appealing alternative."

"I already know a far more appealing alternative," she said haughtily, picking the book once more. "Being alone."

"No one wants to alone, Elsa. Besides,-" he shoved a glossy flyer in front of her "-you might want to look at it first."

She had every intention of scrunching the paper up in a ball and tossing it into the bin (she had been practicing her throws since that day in the classroom. No, it's not because she admired how well Jack Frost could toss his paper-balls. It had nothing to with that at all. At all. Completely unrelated. Definitely. It was just a … useful skill) but she then read the flyer. "The Royal Shakespeare Company? Here?"

"And you'll like what they've got on," he assured her with a knowing smirk.

Elsa frowned at him, until she saw the title. "King Lear? That's a difficult one to do."

"Yes. Tragedy often is, isn't it?" he mused, before letting a sigh. "But that's the thing, Elsa. No one these days appreciate the hard work that goes behind a good tragedy. Melancholy is, after all, an art form that only sophisticated minds can understand. Just look at that cesspool below." He rose to his feet, jerking his chin contemptuously towards the students eating on the ground level of the canteen. "Do you think they even possess the capacity to contemplate the greys of life?"

There were bored faces trudging towards the snake of line, heads buried in phones. Large cliques of gossipers chattering mindlessly with one another, trying to make themselves heard over the noise that was generated by their own voices. There was loud boisterous laughter ringing out from a group of students egging on one amongst them to swallow down a bottle of tabasco. Suddenly, someone rushed in, panting frantically and shouting, "Guys! Dragonair in the courtyard! Dragonair in the courtyard!"

Immediately, a good number of people shot to their feet and scrambled their way to the door, phones whipped out faster than the speed of light.

Pitch sniffed derisively at the sight. "Inane creatures following the latest trend or the newest faze with no concept of future other than their own childish wants. They build their pitiful worlds to hide themselves from reality – the darkness and all its ills." Turning towards the blonde girl, he made a wane smile. "Let me know if you'd like to accompany me soon. Of course, I _completely_ understand if you would prefer to traipse around with the incumbent simpletons." He flashed her toothy grin, before spinning around, disappearing so swiftly that it seemed that he hidden his dark self in to the shadows.

She thought over his words more than she would have liked, and she had to admit, he was right. That were few in this school who dared to share her ambitions, simply because there would few in this place that who had the ability. Not everyone was as smart, or competent, or mature as she was. She did not belong amongst them. In a way, she _was_ above them.

Then, if not with them, then where did she belong?

Elsa spent a good deal of lunch break staring down at the flyer and brooding over that question.

~~~0~~~

Act 30: Where The Furniture Wrecked Vengeance on Our Hero

In the days that followed, Jack realized that he saw a remarkable amount of Anna. It wasn't particularly annoying and much of it wasn't on purpose – at least, on his part. He hadn't taken it to heart at first when he had bumped into her during break, or when they had reached for the same sandwich at the canteen counter, but he began to notice that everywhere he was, she was too. Like that time they ended up studying in the same study room, or when they both appeared the same football game. She did invite him for another round of one-for-one ice-cream/sorbet/soft-serve/assorted diabetic-inducing frozen treats, and it was fun talking to her, but he was starting to wonder if there was something more to this.

When he mentioned it to Bunnymund, his roommate just gave him a long look. "Are you really asking me that?"

The athlete gave no further elaboration, which left Jack in his own sorry state of confusion. He spent a good many evenings pacing the corridor outside his dorm (he was sent outside because Bunnymund complained that the steps were disturbing him) when the answer came to him.

Anna was lonely and nursing a heartache, and considering that her sister was as comforting as a cinderblock, she turned to only person who had shown her compassion that was not her rubbish ex-boyfriend – Jack Frost. The prank-loving senior who she barely knew anything about, except that he had hair as white as snow and he was nice to her. Oddly, specifically to her. A cynical soul might have have said that this particular behavior he had adopted was and had always been a scheme for him to reach her sister. But though it might have started that way, the boy genuinely felt sorry for her. He could see the insecurity in her forced laughs and the eagerness at his slightest of requests, and he saw himself in the fragile young soul, who was in need of a friend.

So that's what he decided that was exactly what he should be. When he revealed this inspired aspiration to his roommate, Bunnymund stared at him as if he had just said that the moon was made of cheese and the galaxy was nothing but a glassy fishbowl sitting in someone's apartment. And then he said, "You really don't get it."

Because he didn't bother explaining still, Jack continued not to get whatever Bunnymund had intended for him to get by saying 'you really don't get it'. As a result, he really didn't get it.

He continued to brood over what the Australian could possibly mean one morning until he had discovered that his locker had been invaded. When he opened the door, he was met with the sight of glaringly yellow acrylic paint dripping over every inch of the metal cabinet.

"What the heck-" the boy tried to pull to reach for his book on the shelves, only to end up with half his arm coated in the icky liquid, with a thread of yellow sticking to his coat. He clenched his teeth. It had taken ages for his coat to get dried and now – "Really? Of all times, _really_?"

The bell rang and the corridors were clearing up. Even spectators who had been looking on unsympathetically at his situation had shuttled off to their classes and he was still stuck here. Literally stuck here.

Jaw tightened, he forcefully parted himself from the rubbery stack of goo, with the half-dried paint still gloved on his hand as he slammed the locker shut with his clean hand. Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, he sped down the hall, through the corridor and down to the classroom, praying that he would not run into the principal as he did. He wasn't that eager to have another counselling session.

When he had arrived outside the classroom, class had already started. So, as he always did when he was late, he leaned himself against the wall and waited for the teacher to turn himself towards the board, before slipping into one of the empty table at the back. However, as he settled himself down, his chair let out a traitorous 'squeak!' and before he knew it, every eye in the room was fixed on him.

"Mister Frrrrrost!" Mr. Weselton spun around, punctuating his words with a sharp step on of his heeled shoes against the tiled floors. "Do you know what they say about punctuality?"

Immediately, a cheeky response was formed in his mind, but for some reason, he held his tongue. Then, he remembered that reason no longer existed. In that case, he might as well get hanged for a sheep as a lamb.

"Well," Jack said a bright tone, "they do say _'punctuality is the virtue of the bored'_ , sir."

There was some giggling at his comment. The wiry thin old man sniffed, offended at his authority being slighted. Drawing himself up straight, which did not make him all that much taller, Mr. Weselton said in a derisive tone, "That is not what I meant."

"Oh, did you mean that _'punctuality is the thief of time'_?" Jack put in.

The man was turning red, flustered and blurting out, "Well, no, I certainly don't mean-"

"Or that _'only the servile are punctual'_?"

"Well, I should think that-"

" _'Better never than late'_?"

"Yes!" After some thought, the chemistry teacher amended his answer, "Well, no. I don't-"

"Well, please Mr. Weselton," the boy spoke in a falsely innocuous tone, earning even more chortles that were hastily stifled. "What do you mean then?"

The old man gave him a long hard look, then pointed a finger out of the classroom. "Get out."

Right, he should have seen this coming. With a groan, Jack pushed himself back to his feet, grabbed his bag and set off towards the door near the back of the classroom. Except for one small problem – the paint on his book, which had he rested on the table, was all dried up, sticking it to the surface of the table. And since he had been still carrying that book at the time, his hand was now trapped under the dried yellow blob.

He frowned, trying to yank his hand from the hardened liquid, which now was wrapped around his hand and table like a tight sheet of plastic. He jiggled it a few times but it still wouldn't move.

"Do you not know where the door is, Mister Frost?" The old teacher was glaring at him down his nose, tapping his heeled boot pointedly.

"I do, sir." The boy tugged once more, but to no avail. His hand was still fastened to the wooden piece of furniture.

"Then what are you waiting for?" Weselton, with a wrinkled of his nose, spat out.

Feeling quite exasperated, Jack gave up. Marching quite determinedly towards the door, he yanked the table along, with the metallic legs screeching against the tiles in a manner that made one's hair stand.

"Can we all take out yesterday's work on inorganic-"

 _Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!_

"-compounds?" The old man removed the pince-nez resting on his nose, wiping it with his overtly large and not very clean handkerchief. "As you all know, this topic will be tested in-"

 _Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!_

"-the spot test next week." Mr. Weselton shot him a sharp look. Jack merely shrugged at the spot where his hand was connected to the table surface. Scrunching his nose up in an irritated manner, the man continued, "So I expect that you all-"

 _Screeeeeeeeeeeeech!_

"Mister Frost, if you cannot contain that intolerable noise, I will throw you out of the classroom!" Mr. Weselton barked sharply, nearly breaking the piece of chalk in his hand.

"But I'm already trying to throw myself out of the classroom!" the boy protested, still pulling the table along with him. Upon reaching the door though, he hit the next roadblock – the table couldn't fit through it. Even after he spun himself around and tried walking backwards, he couldn't find a way to fit it through the narrow space. "Great, just great."

Exasperated and clearly having lost his self-control, the balding man began to shout, "Get out of the classroom!"

The boy glanced down at his feet, which were indeed beyond the borders of the classroom. "I am outside, sir!"

"Get out!"

"I am out!"

"GET OUT!"

"I AM OUT!"

"I AM WARNING YOU, YOUNG MAN, IF YOU DON'T REMOVE YOURSELF THIS VERY INSTANCE-"

"I AM- wait." Jack held his hand up towards the flustered teacher, abruptly cutting short the entire ragging session. The boy then reached for the latch under the table, which allowed him to fold it up flat and carry it through the door. "Got it." With a bright grin, he gave Mr. Weselton a thumb-up. He then gave a big wave to all his watching classmates as if he were a rock star giving a farewell to his adoring fans, pressing the folded table against his chest. "Bye, everyone! And look! There's only forty-five minutes left of this period."

" _FROST…_ " Mr. Weselton's entire face right down to his ears was burning crimson and the boy could have sworn that he would explode any second. So blowing one last kiss, he darted out the classroom and sped away, but not before taking a glance at the blonde girl who had her hair twisted into a tight bun.

Throughout the entire scene, she hadn't so much as lift her head. The thought of that was enough to ebb away his cheeriness as he strolled back down the hall.

As he returned to the rows of lockers, he groaned as he realized that the blobs of paint in the locker had probably hardened up inside his locker. He would never get any of his things out of the locker now, not that the metal cabinet wasn't already well beyond repair.

"Humans! Dastardly, disgusting, sniveling worms!" He heard a furious growl echoing down the hall, and he found that out of the male bathroom emerged a familiar blonde fellow who was half-caked in hardened orange paint. His two stained fists were shaking emphatically at the ceiling. "I _hate_ humans!"

Kristoff seemed like he was about to elaborate on his undoubtedly powerful detestation of his fellow biped creatures when he noticed Jack's presence. His brows furrowed as he realized how Jack's torso plastered in the sticky yellow sheet, along with the table joined to his hand.

Both boys hissed simultaneously, "Hans."

~~~0~~~

Act 31: Where Revenge Came with Unexpected Consequences

If you were an average student at this particular high school (which I had decided to bestow no name upon), you might hear of the prank war that occurred just a few days after the term 'Jelsa' was coined (we're still negotiating with Oxford Dictionaries to have it accepted as a legitimate English word.) You would have to be an average student in order to know this, because one, you must have enough a social circle to have someone tell you about it and two, if you were much wiser person and decided to pay attention to your studies instead of such idiocy, you wouldn't have been silly enough to listen in on school politics.

Sadly, being average was a fairly common trait amongst a majority of people, which meant that too many people got caught up in a prank war that had nothing to do with them. And this wasn't a prank war between a bunch of friends or a set of YouTubers. No, this was a legitimate, all-out war with genuine stakes. Well _, sort of, mostly, kinda-ish_ genuine stakes.

Nobody was really sure why it was happening. Some said it was because Hans had been the reason for the short-lived 'Jelsa' Ice-power couple to dissolve. Others claimed that it had to do with a secret plot by watercoolers to take over the world. Up to now, it still had not occurred to these onlookers to just _ask the parties involved oh my goodness, was this school full of idiots?_

Fortunately, students had enough honor to keep mum about this topic in the presence of teachers and for nearly a week, the staff were completely clueless as to why all Hans Westergaard's report sheets were stapled with far too many staples, or why Jack Frost had appeared at school one day without shoes. Occasionally, Kristoff Bjorgman would appear at detention for breaking school property, but that was nothing new.

There was no clear winner. At least, not yet.

Just one day after class, when Jack opened his locker – this one being a new one, since the other was completely wrecked - he found his Prom ticket stuck to the board hanging behind his locker door. The flimsy piece of paper that promised magic held little meaning to him now, but it had been far too expensive to just discard it. He supposed that he had best find someone to sell it to, but for some reason, he wanted to delay that. Somewhere at the back of his head, he knew that he was waiting for a miracle.

It was then he realized that there was something at the bottom of locker – a small card. Someone must have slipped it in. He picked up and was surprised by what he found.

 _Jack:_

 _We should talk. Meet me at the Sports Hall, Swimming Complex. 10 tonight._

 _Elsa._

Brief. Printed neatly. Seemed to be quite the typical Snow Queen-fare. He had to admit he felt a little excited about it. Perhaps she had changed her mind. Perhaps she didn't hate him so awfully after all. Then, a dark thought hit him. What if she knew that his sister had bee hanging out a lot with him recently? She might think him a bad influence on Anna.

So it was both anticipation and dread that Jack waited for night time to fall. He had actually managed to spend the time in between finishing his homework so efficiently that Bunnymund could not help but be amazed. When the appointed time drew near, the white-haired boy announced that he was going to meet up with someone.

"Who?" the athlete asked, trying not to sound too interested, for though he struggled to maintain a stoic, cool as a cucumber appearance, Bunnymund had probably been a nosey old woman in his past life. Then he frowned. "It's not with that sophomore kid, is it?"

"Anna? Oh, no." Jack waved him off, attempting to hide his jitters with a careless chuckle. "This is someone else." Someone way more important, who could rip his head off with a glare and rip his heart to pieces with a frown.

He was a nifty walker, so reaching the sport hall was easy. He had been there often enough in unwanted physical education sessions, so he knew exactly where to go.

The complex was technically closed at eight at night, but the pool side was left open for the swimming team – not that their school's swim team worked hard enough to do training at night. So that left him alone in the area, walking along the slippery tiles and listening to the hum of the ventilators above him.

As he waited there, he found the sight of the chlorine-tinted water flushing itself into the surrounding drain rather fascinating. Even though having that large a body of water in front of him was disturbing, he found himself going nearer to the edge to watch the water whooshing in, splashing against the plastic beams.

That was, until it occurred to him that someone like Elsa would never be late, even less invite strange boys to come alone on school nights to a pool of all places. Of course, our hero was not especially bright and by the time he felt a hard shove against his back and a hollered insult, it was too late.

Hitting the water spread a burst of fire on his skin, followed by the searing cold. He groped in the liquid, unable to grab hold of anything. Bubbles from his nostrils and lips flubbered upwards and away to safety, while he was being dragged surely down by the weight of his clothes.

His heart was ramming against his chest, doing no favors to him as he attempted to think out the situation rationally. Where was the side rail? Out of reach. Where was the ground? Way, way below him. What did he remember from his swimming lessons? Absolutely nothing. He never made it past dipping a foot into the water and then scurrying away, screaming.

His lungs screamed for his air and his arms grappled for purchase. No, his brain couldn't get enough oxygen. He wanted to panic. He needed to panic.

And panic, he did.

He'd like to imagine that he didn't remember anything before the age of ten, but under the waves, he realized that he did. He remembered the horror and the helplessness, with dark shadows stretching their claws towards his eyes and the currents hauling him down. He remembered his mouth parted for a scream, but there was no sound in the darkness. He was alone.

He was drowning.

The world was nothing but a watery blur of emotion and blackened memories now. He felt his body shaking and pulling, and he cursed himself for not being much taller.

And then he stopped remembering. He did not think, or move, or struggle. All he could think of was that was the pale expense of the moon shining down on him through the glass roof of the complex.

~~~0~~~

Act 32: Where I pulled a Deus Ex Machina and Ruined All Your Lives

If this were some movie that involved magical spirits and immortal legends, there might have well been a segment in which our hero rises out of a body of water to become a spirit of ice whilst accompanied by the haunting tunes of Alexandre Desplat.

As you can tell, though, I'm not Guillermo de Torro, and with text being the primarily medium that the story is told and the very fact that this tale falls on under the notorious genre of fanfiction, this is not a movie.

Jack Frost was very much alive when he regained consciousness and he was coughing, spluttering, gasping like a man hungry for air. He remembered hearing murmuring voices, feeling extremely cold and for some reason a desperate need to taste the canteen cookies, even though they were actually disgusting. He remembered the cradling of his head and whispers of comfort.

He did remember blacking back out again, but he did, because the next time he registered anything, he was in a bed, dry, clean and mostly warm.

 _Mostly_ warm and not totally warm, because his face, being the only thing not covered, felt cold.

He sat himself up after blinking awake, wondering why he felt so lightheaded and thirsty. He also wondered why the bed sheet below him felt so comfortable and clean. His own in his dorm room, he knew, were neither.

"Well, I thought you'd never wake," a familiar voice rang out. There was the usual tint of dryness in it, but mixed in with relief. He felt something cool nudge against his arm before he saw it. "You're probably thirsty."

Yes, he was parched, so he took the cup and drank it down. It was then he became aware of the taste of chlorine on his tongue and was reminded of what exactly happened to him at 10pm the other night.

"Am I dead?" Jack asked, suddenly feeling a wave of horror sweeping through his body. But then again, this place didn't seem too bad. It was bright and sunny. It had a nice white glow about it. Besides, if he truly had entered the realm of the departed, he could finally get to see the rest of his –

"Nope. Didn't even come that close after the initial scare, if you ask me."

– and that pleasant thought was dashed.

With the cup still balanced in his palm, he blinked harder and found that he actually recognized the place. It was the school medical centre. Wow, he actually stayed here overnight, by the looks of it. He frowned as he twisted in the new set of clothes that he was in. He felt he didn't really want to know who changed him out of the wet attire. He rather doubted he could look in the face of the person who had seen him naked.

He glanced to the blonde girl who had taken the cup from his hands, moving over to the sink to wash it. On the medical bed opposite his own, he noted that there were a stack of files and the familiar volume of _Pride and Prejudice._ His eyes moved over to examine the clock hanging on the wall. Well, classes had ended for today. No wonder that she could be on duty here. Well, for whatever reason she was usually here for.

"Your ability to damage yourself is quite remarkable, you know." Her back was facing him, but considering that there was no other in their company, she was clearly addressing him.

"I suppose so." He shrugged. He angled his head a little to the side, such that he could see her face through the mirror in front of her. Her lips were tightly drawn and there was a hardness in the way she stared down at the basin, as if she were contemplating deeply on something else. Jack couldn't help put in, perhaps a little bitingly, "Is that what you're really worried about? That'd I drag you down with me?"

"I rather doubt you could," the girl said, almost snorting as she did.

The prideful note made him feel a little resentful. "Then what? Am I really such a horrible person?"

"It's not that you're terrible, Jack," she told him quietly somberly as she dried her hands on the towel. "It's just that-" she let out an exhale as she spun to face him "-I have standards, and you don't-" her eyes fell when she uttered the words, her voice dropping several decibels "-meet them."

Jack gazed up at her, wishing more than ever than he had stayed under the waters after all.

"Anyway," Elsa hastily said, making a show of arranging the equipment around the medical centre although nothing seemed really out of place, "the culprit or culprits behind the attack have yet to be identified, but I think they'll at least have the common sense at this point to cease this nonsense."

"They might, but I don't," the boy muttered to himself. He didn't need any evidence for it. He was pretty sure he could name his assailant right now, and, no guesses, his name rhymed with 'puns'.

"Pushing you in a pool was an oddly specific move against you though," the girl commented, not having heard what he had said earlier, or pretending that she hadn't. There was quite nothing left to arrange, so she had no choice but sit herself down by the bed across his. "Any ideas on why?"

Jack shrugged, not trying to look like he cared too much about it. "It's known that I don't like big bodies of water. Yeah."

He noticed how her hands had been reaching for her stack of homework, probably eager to bury herself in academia and ignore his existence. But then her fingers froze, with her hardened façade suddenly crumbling. Weariness was woven into every feature and there was even an inch of sadness - a vulnerable emotion that he had never seen before.

It was fleeting though, and very quickly the mask was rebuilt once again, returning to impassivity. But the shaking of her voice, he could tell that she was just barely keeping it together, "I'm not quite fond of large bodies of water either."

"Oh?"

It was just filler word, not designed to stimulate further elaboration, but without him probing further, Elsa added, "My parents died at sea."

He had to admit to that he was surprised that to hear her say it. Anna had mentioned their parents' death literally the second time that they had met, and given how different the sister were, he never expect that to hear the elder girl mention that tiny portion of her life that both less than perfect and completely irreversible.

"I don't even dare to go to as much as beach," he heard her go on. She wasn't looking at him – just staring very intently at the wall, like there was image there that he could not see. "I never learned swimming. I never touched a boat, and as far as I can, I'm not going to. Of course-" she cocked her head slightly to the side, wringing her gloved hands together "-Anna took the completely opposite route. She used to be in the swim team here, you know, until her grades dipped and I made her drop it." Elsa lifted to her head towards him, her expression completely unreadable. "You should be glad for that."

He made a quizzical face. "Why?"

She gave him a long look, perhaps slightly regretful. "Who do you think pulled you out of the pool?"

At that moment, the door medical centre swung open and in burst the very epitome of enthusiasm itself. "You're awake!"

Before Jack could even process it, arms had already wrapped themselves around his neck and a warm cheek was pressed against his shoulder. The girl with the twin braids then sharply drew herself away, blushing furiously. Hastily scooping her hair behind her ears and hopping a step back, she quickly blabbed out, _"Ohmygosh,I'msorsorry,don' ."_

Still baffled by it all, Jack merely darted a nervous look at the elder sister who was them expressionlessly. "Um, okay?"

"Oh, oh! I rather hoped that you'd be awake, so guess what I got you?" The junior student eagerly rummaged her bag for a box wrapped in plastic, then grimacing slightly as looked at it. "Oh, it's starting to melt already."

"Oh, wow." Jack's brows shot up higher than before as he was presented with the tub of ice-cream. In the time that she had spent with him on their hangouts, its seemed that Anna had really observed how much ice-cream he consumed in a shot – and yes, a tub was often too little. "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to-" he glanced eagerly at Elsa for her objection.

But she just shrugged. "It's fine. You can actually leave, you know. I'll let the medical officer know."

Anna beamed at her sister in a manner that almost seemed to be … grateful? Grabbing onto Jack's arm and all but yanking him off the bed, she said with a little leap of joy, "C'mon, let's go!"

With a measure of reluctance, Jack did remove himself from the medical bed, still none clearer about what was going on. He stared at Elsa. Wasn't this some kind of break from protocol? Didn't he need to sign some paper at least?

But the girl gave no explanation, only drawing near him one time as Anna dragged him off in time to whisper fiercely, "Break her heart, and I'll kill you myself."

 _This_ was killing him. Break her heart? Who's heart? Anna's? But it wasn't as if he was trying to-

 _Oh._

 _Oh, no._

 _Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no…_

This was a huge mistake. This was crazy. He hadn't given her any signals for such an idea!

Except that he was horribly nice to her. And that he comforted her. And he protected her honor by attacking the one who had hurt her. And that they had hung out enough times together to be considered dating.

Oh, crap.

Everyone could see where this was going. Bunnymund did, and thought that he had meant for it to be that way. Anna certainly did. Elsa … even _the girl of his dreams_ thought so.

He had to stop this. He had to say something. "Um, Anna?"

The girl paused her their steps – their steps, because her fingers had been gripped around his wrist ever since – and she smiled sweetly at him, eyes shining in delight. "Yes?"

He compared this expression of radiance to the crumpled red face that he seen crying at the stairs just a week ago. She seemed so happy. He knew he should do this – he couldn't possibly live a lie. But he thought of how badly Hans had cut her before, and he thought of the words that Elsa had uttered to him. It wasn't the threat itself that scared him, though he supposed that the blonde girl wouldn't mind stabbing a knife into his throat, but he knew that behind it all, the blonde girl prized her sister's happiness way over her own, only that she had no idea how to go about it.

Not the way he did.

"Um…" Jack could see a flash of anxiety sweeping across the contours of her contenance, so he quickly gestured to the box of ice-cream, "I don't think I can finish this myself?"

At this comment, the girl just let out a light laugh, sounding rather relieved too. "Well, alright," she said, full smiles on once more. "We can finish it together."

And from that moment on, our hero realized that no longer was he just digging a grave for himself, but he had was about to bury himself in it too.

~~~0~~~

 **Well, finally! This is done. I do enjoy writing this, but being so busy this week with college, I hadn't had the time to write out a satisfactory piece till now.**

 **For non-readers of my other stories, just to let you know that this story is on my priority list compared to the others – mostly because it's shorter and easier to write. That said, college and life is where I place most of my time. Hope you guys can understand and thanks for waiting!**

 **And as a reminder, yes – this is still Jelsa. Sorry, Janna fans.**

 **Guest Mailbox:**

 **Polar Panda: Yikes! Sorry for the crazy grammar. One day I'll really need to review all these pieces. I'm glad that the story still draws you in, though – I think with the current bend that the story is going over now, your opinion might have changed by now.**

 **Athena: Thank you so much! I hope you continue to enjoy it.**

 **AND TO THE GUESTS WHO REVIEW IN CHAPTER 3! I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT REPLYING BEFORE.**

 **Guest (chapter 3, Jul 26): This was such a sticky sweet chapter, wasn't it? Hmm, you've read my other stories too! Cool! Would love to see you around more.**

 **Kev (chapter 3, Jul 27): One of the best you say? Haha, your opinion might change as we go down the line. When the end comes, you can tell me if your feelings have changed.**

 **Reviews would be great. Till next the next chapter** **, folks.**


	6. Chapter 6

Act 33: Where Internal Conversations were Undoubtedly the Worst

Throughout the day, Elsa could not help but feel as if she was missing something extremely important.

In a matter of fact, there was a throbbing sensation at the back of her head – a headache, actually. The consequence of a poor night's sleep. Her roommate had solemnly vouched that she had been tossing and turning through the wee hours, muttering in her slumber.

It had been because of this that the blonde had entered literature class in a rather sour state of mind, looking crosser and stiffer than her cross and stiff self usually did. Dropping her books against the table with a grouchy thud, she made the student sitting next to her jump up with a start. This student had opened his mouth to fire a rebuke, but the narrowed brows from her silenced him at once. The student decided that perhaps living to fight another day was a wiser option and angled his seat away from our frosty blonde heroine.

The source of her discontent was by no means clear. In a matter of fact, Elsa had expected to find some peace of mind now that the whole fiasco had been settled from yesterday had ended. One, Jack Frost wasn't actually dead. He was fine. The whole fuss had been for nothing – not that she had been overtly worried to begin with. Two, she wasn't going to Prom anymore. Though she had yet to sell off her ticket, there was no real obligation for her to attend that frivolous waste of money. That was a relief to say the least. Three, Anna was finally going out with someone who wasn't a two-faced douche. Yes, for all his flaws, Elsa admitted, the white-haired trickster was actually a very decent fellow – kind, sincere, not very wise but often well-meaning. He was someone she could trust her sister with.

So she thrusted him to her sister.

Why not? They were both hyperactive, crazy people who obviously cared more about fun and games and YOLO slogans than trying to make a meaning out of their short and pathetic existences. They were perfect for each other.

Of course, she wondered if he plagued Anna as often as he had once plagued herself. Or whether he had attempted to serenade her with poorly sung sixties' ballads. Or whether he had tried to kiss her yet.

Somehow the last idea was that made her feel sick.

Then she forced herself to relax, breathe and breath it over. This was ridiculous. She had thought this over so many times. Yes, he was a sweet boy, but he was also an immature joker of a troublemaker. He didn't know how to take things seriously, or do things in the right way, or even keep a simple agreement, for crying out loud. So she had made that plain to him. There was no point going in ring-around-the-rosies about the topic. It was cold, it was harsh, but it was the truth. They were unsuited for each other.

End of topic.

End.

END.

END.

' _But wasn't that time he took you bed riding fun?'_

 _THE END._

PERIOD.

FULL-STOP.

' _Admit it, you liked it. Yes, yes, you did.'_

She picked the thought up, found a suitable thought-shredder in her mind and slip that memory in. She didn't need these kind of unnecessary distractions.

Then –

' _Maybe this was a mistake.'_

' _You shouldn't have let him go. Anna can find someone else. It's not impossible.'_

' _Let's think about this logically. Assuming eighty percent of the guys you're going to meet in your life are all idiots and the other twenty percent are otherwise unavailable, the chances that you would meet a guy that intelligent, sophisticated, funny and caring is, well, minus forty percent.'_

' _That isn't logical. It's not even mathematically sound.'_

' _It is if it's pi.'_

' _Pi?'_

' _Like the mathematical symbol.'_

' _Oh. Right. 'Coz we're irrational thoughts. Cool.'_

' _This is getting ridiculous…'_

' _You really are going to end up as a grouchy old spinster.'_

' _Thanks for the encouragement.'_

' _No worries. I love brightening the day with a little pessimism.'_

' _Hey, me too! Hi-five!'_

 _PLACK! 'We make a great team.'_

' _I know. #ruinElsasday.'_

' _#terriblewaystostartmorning. Hahaha.'_

' _#LOLwithoutactuallylaughingoutloud.'_

' _#beingverydistractingtoElsa.'_

' _#verydistractingperiod.'_

' _#ahahaha.'_

At this point, the 'thought shredder' started to jam up. Elsa let out a long exhale as she rubbed her forehead. Her headache was definitely getting worse.

Without her noticing, the other students had already filed in and gotten into their seats. Even the teacher had arrived and she hadn't noticed. Her thoughts truly occupied her, it seemed.

"Alright, notebooks under tables. It's essay practice." Long-drawn groans met the tutor's announcement, which led to the lady in the front crossing her arms and saying, "I told you guys that this was coming last week. Don't act like I didn't prepare you all for this."

Yes, Elsa was more than prepared for this. She had read the book cover to cover so many times that she could recite chapters off the cuff. Perhaps an essay would be a welcome distraction from all her … other distractions.

' _Nice try, but we're persistent,'_ an unwelcome thought rang merrily in her head.

She hastily grabbed that thought, constructed a mental version of a rubbish chute and dumped through the opening. With that out of the way, she poised her pen over the paper. The tutor wrote the essay question out on the board, before telling the students that they might start.

Elsa quickly copied the word down onto her sheet, and only after she had did she read it properly.

 _Examine the concept of 'prejudice' within the novel, with specific focus on Austen's portrayal of Elizabeth Bennet, and explain why it is different from_ _'_ _discernment_ _'_ _._

' _Sure we can write about prejudice!'_ an annoying voice in her head rang too jubilantly. _'We've got lots of life experience with it!'_

Elsa sighed as she stared down at the question. This was going to be a long day.

~~~0~~~

Act 34: Where The Dudes went Shopping

"I think you're an idiot."

"You're right." Jack hummed as he scrutinized his reflection, rubbing his chin as he did. "Red is clearly not my color."

"I wasn't talking about that," Kristoff said scoffing. Walking up to the other boy, he cast a critical eye at the crimson dress shirt and it matching white coat. "But yes, red's definitely not your color. With your white hair, it makes you look like Santa Claus Junior or something."

"Knew it." Jack grabbed the next suit set in line, which included a white dress shirt and a deep green coat. "Gim'me a sec to change out."

Having ended class early today, our hero decided to spend a little time at a little shop that claimed to have decently-priced, distinguished-looking formal attires for 'anytime, anywhere'. He had come here because he had figured it was high time he got a suit for Prom. He couldn't actually afford to buy one though, so rental was the way to go. It was still a good month before Prom though, so this was more like a reckee where they would find the perfect garments, hide them in a corner that other people won't find it, then come and rent it the day before Prom.

He had intended to drag Bunnymund along for this. Say what you want about the Australian, but his taste in clothes was quite fashionable. However, at the last minute, the other boy had running practice, so Jack had phoned up the reindeer-loving junior student instead. Kristoff fortunately had nothing better to do at the moment and had figured that spending an afternoon criticizing someone else's garb was not the worst activity he could adopt.

"Anyway, as I was saying, you're an idiot. And not just because of the clothes you pick. They do really suck, by the way."

"Says the guy who wears reindeer themed clothes all the time," Jack jeered as he went back into the changing closet, throwing his chosen garments over the door before shutting it.

"Says the guy who wears the same hoodie all the time," the blonde fellow retorted without missing a beat.

"It's a nice hoodie."

"And they're nice reindeer clothes. I got them cheap too. But that's not the point." Kristoff leaned at the ledge next to the door frame, crossing his arms. "I can't believe you're going to Prom with a girl that you don't like."

"I don't _not-like_ Anna," Jack's voice was muffled as he exchanged on shirt for another. "I mean, I don't _like-like_ her, but I don't dislike her either. I mean, she's a nice kid."

"The fact that you refer to her as 'kid' suggests that you don't think of her as your emotional and intellectual equal," the blonde boy said bluntly.

"Well, she is younger than me."

"You liked her elder sister, didn't you?"

"Yes, but well-" he heard the boy let out a huff whilst straightening out the fabric "-her sister doesn't like me."

"…so she's like second choice?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what?"

Heavy exhale. "She went through a hard break up, remember? I just want to be nice to her."

"…so you're _her_ second choice?"

There was a long silence, so long that the blonde boy wondered if one inside the had fainted. The door then opened up and Jack stepped out, now donning a deep green dress shirt, looking grim. "Why are you so interested in this?"

"Because you're spending so much time picking out a suit for an event that you're attending with a girl you don't really like." Kristoff raised a brow at the new viridescent garment that he was wearing now.

Jack gazed down at himself, then finally muttered, "I look like the Leprechaun, don't I?"

The blonde boy nodded grimly. He noticed the shop attendant watching them from a distance and looking peeved at the growing number of shirts that they had thrown into the 'no-go' pile. He called out in an attempt to sound cheery, "Haven't found that perfect one yet."

The attendant seemed to mutter a complaint under his breath, before heading to the other end of the shop to help customers who would make up their minds more quickly. Kristoff turned back to Jack, who now picked up the light blue dress shirt and the matching dark blue coat from the rack, studying the collar style before folding it over his arm. "I think that guy hates us."

Jack shrugged as he headed back to changing closet. "Well, I refuse to wear anything that makes me look weird."

"Why can't you just wear a tux like everyone else?"

"Because that's what _everyone else_ would be wearing." Jack rolled his eyes at him before shutting the door again. "Blend in the crowd? No thanks."

Kristoff pulled a face, not that his companion could see it. "Okay, if you want to look so different from other people, why not just wear a T-shirt and jeans?"

"Because there's a dress-code, and it says no T-shirts and jeans," was the snippy reply over the sound of ruffling fabric. "Don't you know anything?"

"Not about this kind of stuff. I'm not even going for Prom." Kristoff sniffed, stepping towards a table lined with elegant, uncomfortable-looking shirts with stiff collars and bland colors. "Why does it matter what you wear anyway? From I heard, this Anna person worships the ground you walk on."

"Funny."

"I mean it. You could go in tracks and slacks and I don't think she'd care."

"I'm not doing it for her."

"Then who?"

"…myself?"

"Yourself?" The skepticism was thick in Kristoff's tone. The notion itself was something he seemed to have trouble comprehending. "You're dressing up for Prom _for yourself?_ "

"I don't know. It's kinda hard to explain." There was note of hesitation in our hero's voice even as he unlatched the closet door and stepped out in his new attire, the removed garments crumpled under his arm. "It's supposed to be like a huge milestone in my life, I guess." His brows knitted thoughtfully together as he ran a hand through his hair. "Like the last gate I have to cross before becoming an adult, or something like that."

"Hmm." Kristoff nodded rather soberly, as if he was actually considering this new perspective. He then peered at the latest piece that the other boy had tried on, stepping back to get a better look at it. "I think this one suits you."

"Really?" Jack approached a nearby mirror, twisting himself about as he surveyed himself. He brushed his hair back a few times as he contemplated the look, making 'hmms' and 'hermms' as he did. It did fit him quite well, and there was an … icy vibe about it.

 _"Ahem."_ The shop attendant was back now and looking more irritated than ever. He was tapping his foot and his eyes kept flitting to the exit of the shop, as if he were tempted to throw the duo out of the doors.

"You're right, Kristoff!" The white-haired boy suddenly declared in an unnecessarily loud voice, even waving a finger in the air as he did. "All these shirts don't fit me! I couldn't possibly wear any of them!"

The junior student was confused by the unexpected change in attitude. "What? I just said that it-"

"We're going to put all these suits back where we found them like _good, responsible young men_ ," Jack continued, glossing over Kristoff's utterings and not noticing the indignant expression the other boy now wore. The shop attendant however nodded approvingly at this announcement.

The white-haired boy then went back into the closet and a few seconds later, he was back in his usual hoodie, school bag slung over one shoulder. The snubbed blue coat and its shirt were then dropped in the pile of the other snubbed garment before he pickedup the entire load in his arms, though only really managing to lift about half of it. He then nodded at his companion to do the same. Scowling, Kristoff did scoop up the rest of the unwanted fabrics in his arm and reluctantly followed Jack as they returned back to the section of the shop that they had found them at.

He hissed at the elder boy. "What are you doing? I thought we found the perfect suit."

"We did," Jack whispered back gleefully. He glanced over his shoulder to check on the shop attendant, whose head was now downturned checking his phone. Noticing that the window of opportunity had arrived, he nudged Kristoff, jerking his head towards the clothes shelves. "C'mon!"

Kristoff shuffled behind the other boy, still heaving the rejected shirts around. "I don't get what you're doing."

"Hiding the suit so that no one else can buy it or rent it. Till I come back, of course." He dropped the rest of the shirts on the ground before picking up the dress shirt in question. Rolling up the chosen two pieces of fabric in a ball, he pressed it against his lips as he pondered, "Now, the question is where..."

~~~0~~~

Act 35: Where The Girls went Shopping

"This one?"

"No. No pastels."

"Okay." That eliminated fifty percent of the dresses in the boutique. "Sleeve length?"

"Let's do long sleeves. I don't want my skin touching anyone else's, thanks you very much."

"Okay." That narrowed the dresses to about twenty percent. "Blue, purple or green?"

A thought later. "In between green and blue?"

"Turquoise." Elsa removed the only dress of that shade from the rack and checked the price label. It was conservative, uninteresting and rather plain. It seemed almost like the kind of dress she would pick. Considering the price tag and the lack of brand though, it probably wasn't worth it.

Her roommate's eye however lit up. Merida took the garment in her hands and begun a thorough examination of it, finally saying in a soft voice, "It's perfect."

"Really?" Elsa's expression was impassive, but her tone revealed her disbelief.

"Look." The redhead suddenly shoved the fabric in her face, making her take a step back in shock. "See this?"

It took the blonde girl a moment to refocus her vision, and she saw the small slit on the side of the long dress. "There're…pockets."

"Yes, exactly." Merida pulled the dress back towards herself to admire it, checking inside the flaps and finding the label. "And look, it's even machine washable!"

"I see," Elsa answered with a slow nod, not really seeing at all.

"I'm buying this," the Scottish girl announced, marching towards the cashier. Of course, she didn't even consider the costs. Merida's folks were quite wealthy, apparently.

"Shouldn't you try it on first?" The blonde interjected in a wry tone.

Merida paused for a moment, then let out a loud groan. "Uhh, fine."

After the redhead had dragged her feet off to the dressing room, the blonde girl had sat herself down on one of the chairs in the shop, pulled out her book and began to read.

This entire shopping expedition had been solely of Merida's initiative, surprisingly, for apparently the girl had been coerced by her mother into attending to join the festivity that was so beloved in the teen movies and less beloved in real life. She had bargained to choose her own dress, however, and won this battle, but came out of that argument realizing that she had no idea how to pick a dress. The only female whom the redhead was on speaking terms was apparently her roommate, and having taken pity on how clueless the other girl was in all matters of propriety, Elsa had agreed to go shopping with her. On hindsight, she should have let the girl go on her own. Merida was undoubtedly clear about what she did and did not want to wear. Her own input was quite unnecessary.

As Elsa sat herself down and flipped open her book, one of the dresses on hanging off the shelves caught her eye. Pausing, she closed it, rising up to take a better look at the dress. It was a shimmering, glittering tight-fitting décolleté gown with a slit up the side, along with a translucent white train attached to the back of it. It was a daring garment – at least, by her standards. She was pretty sure you would never catch her in it. But she wondered, well, honestly, if she would mind to be caught in it.

Size-wise it seemed to fit her, and it color-wise, it fit her complexion and hair. On occasion, even a girl like her might wonder what it would like to _feel_ pretty.

And then she remembered - she wasn't going to Prom anymore. She didn't need a dress.

Elsa shoved the gown back where she found it, trying not to notice one of the shop attendants noticing her notice the dress. Hurriedly, she flopped herself back on to the seat and producing her book once again, making it clear to that attendant that she wasn't at interested in the dress. _At all._ _Period._

She tried to absorb herself back into the Georgian Era where people were more refined but still equally foolish and irritating as those in real life.

When Merida returned, she was staring hard down at her phone, with the dress slung over her shoulder as it were dead game from a recent hunt rather than a gown. Elsa chose not to point this out, only commenting on the other girl's grave façade, "What's the matter?"

"You know how that guy whom you were supposed to go to Prom with but now isn't going with you anymore almost drowned?"

The blonde girl narrowed her eyes. She still quite uncomfortable with it being mentioned. It brought up rather unpleasant memories. "Yes?"

"Some people found the letter that was sent to him before that. It's a nasty piece of work." The redhead turned the phone around so that the screen faced her companion. Elsa frowned as she squinted at the words scribble on it.

And her blood began to boil.

~~~0~~~

Act 36: Where The Hinges of The Cage Burst Loose

It was a rare sight to see the Snow Queen within any a ten feet radius of the sports hall if not dictated so by the physical education schedule. It was supposed to be a well-known place to escape her wrath should you ever be on the receiving end of it - not that people were in the habit of agonizing her in the first place (it was usually too risky). However, as it is often in life, well-known facts can somehow be proven to be false.

"Hans Westergaard."

The redheaded senior was standing by the balcony side, watching as a class of sophomores on their swimming module splashing in the pool around below. He cocked his head towards the call of his name, and a smug expression appeared on his face as he placed the face to the voice. "Elsa. Why, whatever are you doing here? I never took you to be one that's fond of swimming. Oh wait-" he pretended to ponder over it "-you can't swim, can you? Funny. The lack of swimming ability seems to run with the people who are associated with ice." He pulled an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression. "I wonder why."

"It's usually considered terrible manners to shove a person in the pool, and it's considered just plain terrible to shove them in a pool if you know very well they can't swim," was Elsa's cool answer. Though outwardly she was the picture of calm, inwardly she was seething. Her palms felt as if they were burning, aching just to slap the boy right there and then.

She clenched her fists. No, she was the epitome of control. She was the good girl. She did things the right way.

Hans merely snorted. "So, you think it's me? I'm the one who shoved the guy in?"

"I had already suspected, and this further confirmed it." She slipped her bag off her shoulder, removing her phone from the inner pocket.

"Wait. You use mobile devices?" He eyed her gadget and whistled lowly. "For her next trick, the Snow Queen will be singing and dancing to a catchy Broadway-style number."

"Your sense of humor is pathetic, Hans, just like the rest of you," Elsa gave him a withering look whilst flipping through the images on the screen. Finding the one in question, she held it up to him, "Recognize this?"

"Why, yes," he said smoothly, leaning back against the rail of the balcony. "It's been spreading around, actually, over the school's confessional page. I'm surprised that someone who sees herself above such 'mindless gossip' would learn about something like this."

She brushed off his mockery, going straight to the point. "You put my name on it."

"You think it's me? You really do?" He gestured towards himself for emphasis, before throwing his head back and laughing like a madman.

Elsa's frowned as she watched him chuckling, slipping her phone back into her bag at the same time. Even after she was done with that, he still had not stopped.

"I'm sorry, but this-" he was still cackling "-this is just priceless. Hahaha-" he grabbing his sides even, which did no favors to her waning patience "-it's just – oh, my – hahahaha." Wiping the tears from his eyes, he then said in between each bout, "I mean, I do really hate you with every fibre of my being-"

"Thank you for your honesty," the girl quipped dryly.

"-and that Frost guy sure as hell as irritating, but that's not the funny part. Oh, no-" he cleared his throat, straightening himself up, a malicious twinkle in his eye "-the funny part is watching _you_ pretend to _care_."

The girl could not help but be slightly confused – or at least, she told herself she was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you actually cared about that white-haired loser and you thought it was me, you would have confronted me ages ago. But you didn't. You know why?" Hans shook his head at her in mock pity. "You don't actually care about him. Or your sister. Or anyone actually."

Elsa parted her lips to argue, but then she realized she didn't quite know how to answer. In a matter of fact, he had her stumped.

"It's only when your own reputation's at stake that you even bother," the boy went on, his smirk spreading across every contour of his face. " 'coz you know what everyone else who see the picture gon'na think? They're gon'na think that you're the one who tricked him into going that night and then you pushed him in."

"Excuse me?" The indignant note in her voice was umistakeable.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" The cruel enjoyment in his expression was impossible to miss. He gestured towards her. "I mean, think about, the 'Jelsa' ship was formed suddenly, then it fell apart suddenly – why? How? No one's really sure. Then Frost suddenly starts hanging out with the Snow Queen's sister. The Snow Queen naturally gets jealous and she decides that if she can't get him, no one can, so in a fit of rage, she, well,-" he shrugged "-I suppose you can fill in the gaps."

The gall of him! Despite her trying to hold back, Elsa couldn't help herself from taking steps forward. "How _dare_ you insinuate such things-"

"Hey, hey, I'm just saying whatever one else is thinking." Hans raised his palms heavenward, as if his reasoning was that reasonable. He let out of scoff. "But really, you guys ask for it."

"Oh?" There was a threat hidden in the subtle tilt of her head, and too in the glimmer in her eye.

But the redheaded boy had been carried away by his reverie. "You're the Snow Queen for a reason. You don't care about other people – what they feel, how they are. You're just caught in your whole 'holier-than-thou' thing. That Frost guy-" he made a sound of disgust "-he's a wimp who lets himself gets pushed around and your sister? Don't even get me started on Anna. She's a sad, desperate mess. I bet that she'd give herself over to any guy who even looks at her twi-"

THWACK!

There it went. Self-control. Flitting away like a bird that had been freed from its cage.

She hadn't even noticed it go till she had felt her knuckles collide with his nasal bone. She hadn't even really registered what she had done till she realized that Hans was no longer on the balcony and there was a thunderous splash coming from below.

Leaning forward, Elsa's mouth fell open in horror as she gazed down to the pool below. The swimmers, teachers and spectators who had just witnessed the scene turned their eyes up to her and it was without a doubt that each one of them knew her face now.

Drawing herself away from the railing, Elsa found herself hardly able to breathe. She stared down the gloved hand still clenched in a fist. She could feel it smarting, so she ripped the glove off to examine it. The black and blue crowning her bone left no doubt that the deed had been done.

For so long, she had _dreamed_ of it - giving that horrible, disgusting piece of filth his just desserts. But now that the fantasy had been fulfilled, with it came the consequences.

She heard a whistle – one of the instructors from below. "Arendelle! Get down here now."

There went her clean record. There went medical school.

Elsa cringed, and it was not entirely from pain.

~~~0~~~

Act 37: Where Our Hero faced a U-Turn

"This-this can't be right." He flipped through the pages, staring down at them as if within them were written the fate of the universe. Of course, if this was truly some tangible form of prophecy that dictated how the world was going to end (and wasn't reliant on some silly social media fad that took something that Mayans said and translated it into certain knowledge), it would have told its reader that undoubtedly the world would have been taken over the evil league of water-coolers who had introduced the aliens from Mars who dictated the font of the Arial was now planned from the planet.

But the fate of the universe was not what Jack held in his hands. No, it was something far more insignificant. Think of it as comparing the speck of dirt to the vastness of the Cosmos, or a peanut to an ocean, or a tiny little virus to a giant human being.

Okay, perhaps the last of the analogies was pretty irrelevant. But nevermind, because as a reader, you don't really care about the analogies I try to concoct in order to fill the next hundred or so words on this page. No, you're interested in Jack Frost. So very well, to Jack Frost's tale we shall return to.

The boy was flipping the pages of the test sheet so rapidly that the peers around him could not help but glance at him. Of course, everyone by now has probably heard of how he had almost drowned – indeed, his locker had been showered with an assortment of 'get-well-soon' gifts including flippers, inflatable floats and even rubber duckies. The gifts were kind of pointless, since he had technically already recovered and he wasn't ever going to touch a pool ever again (except if there was a zombie apocalypse and the only possible escape was climbing into a pool then…he'll use the floats). So when they saw him pouring crazily through his test papers, feverishly adding up the marks, they merely assumed that it was one of the symptoms of being almost-drowned-but-didn't-but-still-hydrophobic-thank-you-very-much, so they didn't disturb him.

He swung around, looking for a friendly face somewhere in the classroom. Just two seats away was Tooth, gazing moodily at her own test paper. Noting that the teacher was currently occupied with explaining the test another student, he rose from his seat and approached his friend, hissing urgently, "Tooth!"

"Hmm?" The girl glanced up at him, a frown still twisted on her face. "What is it, Jack?"

He waved his test paper at her, ramming a finger at it. "Look at this. It's impossible."

Tooth's eyes widened when she saw the score. "Jack – why, it's-"

"I know what you think, but no, I didn't. Cross my heart and swear to-"

The girl just rolled her eyes at his blabbering and snatched the paper from him. "Here. I'll help you count."

So while she checked the pages and tabulated the score, Jack tapped his fingers anxiously against her table, teeth chattering in his nervousness. He was feeling extremely uneasily about this entire thing. Perhaps this was just some nightmare. A very bizarre nightmare.

Finally, the girl reached the last page and her expression was unreadeable.

Jack leaned forward eagerly towards, asking anxiously, "Well?"

She tilted her head up towards him, a wry smile stretching across the contours of her face. "Well, you've gotten an 'A', Jack. It's just a practice paper, but, well, well done."

"This can't be right." He took his test paper back, staring incredulously down at the sheets. "I've never gotten an 'A' in my entire life."

"Well, did you study for the topic?"

"Well, yes."

"Did you do practice questions?"

"Yes, but it wasn't-"

"Did you pay attention in class?"

"Aha!" He grinned triumphantly. "I didn't do that."

"Well, good for you, because those all biology lessons were rubbish," Tooth said in a low voice, so as not to get the attention of the teacher. She then beamed up the white-haired boy. "Congratulations, Jack. You're now a good student." Noting the boy's distraught face, she added in a slightly sympathetic tone, "Don't worry. I doubt that it's going to be a consistent thing."

Our hero foolishly chose to take comfort in this fact, but unfortunately, he should have reckoned with the fact that his friend did not indeed possess any talent in fortune telling. All the other practice test papers that he received on the day proved that surely enough:

English – A

History – A

Politics – A

Math – A

It was all very frightening and terrifying, and our hero, in trembling fear, presented his findings to his unamused roommate in hope of explanation.

"How can this be happening to me?" the white-haired boy pondered aloud in panic, pacing up and down frantically in the dorm room while the Australian student examined the sheets, looking more and more disgusted with each page he checked. "I must be possessed! Or cursed! Or maybe I have some genius second personality that over me when I sleep." He paused, whipping around to face his companion. "Actually, that would be really cool. A regular Jekyll and Hyde syndrome. Could you film me in my sleep?"

"No, because one, that'd be creepy, and two, I need to sleep too." Bunnymund laid down the last of the test papers, appearing rather perturbed by the exercise. Turning to Jack, he said in reluctant tone, "Well, I guess that's it then."

Jack paled slightly, warily inquiring, "What's 'it'?"

"You actually have a brain and accidentally proved it." There was a nauseous note in the other boy's voice as he handed the papers back to their owner, ripping his hands away from them as soon as he could. "Congratulations. North would be commending you tomorrow morning, and you'll be pressurized to perform with flying colors for the rest of your life. Otherwise, you would be known as the loafer who had a brain but didn't use it. Good luck with that."

And with that, Bunnymund turned back to his table and continued his painting of eggs, muttering about the unfairness of the universe and why, oh, why did Jack Frost get to do better than him in all the test. Sure, they were just practice papers and they weren't worth a cent compared to the big finals - but _still!_

Somehow, in this school where your personal life was known best by everyone else except yourself, it shouldn't have been a surprise that everyone heard about his nearly miraculous improvements in grades by the next day. Most people thought he cheated – teachers included – while other thought that almost-drowning had imbued him with supernatural IQ and considered imitating the act (fortunately, these idiots were never given the chance to do such a feat – the lifeguard at the pool at been alerted). Throughout this whole thing, Jack wished that he could just sink into the ground and hide there forever until everyone had forgotten his name. Funny issue with a guy who used to fear blending in the background.

"Hey!" He was attacked by an unexpected embrace out of nowhere.

He had been carrying the umbrella that time – he had begun to keep it with him wherever he was – and he had managed to stop himself for striking the hugger just in time. Lowering it down, he told the girl in chiding tone, "Anna, you gave me a fright!"

"Sorry, but I was just so excited!" The girl squeezed him tightly across the ribs to prove his point, causing him to wince at the pain. She eventually did detach herself from him, flushed and delighted. "But I heard about your grades! That's fantastic!"

"Those were just for practic-" he began, but she cut him off before he could downplay himself.

"Who cares? You're clearly genius." She nudged his shoulder with her own.

"It was luck," Jack denied it, unable to help grinning as he bumped her back, almost knocking her over.

"Hey!" She pretended to look cross at him, but the smile on her face proved otherwise. Jack noticed that she smiled, he could see the rare features that were shared by both Arendelle sisters – the sparkle in their large eyes, the slightest spray of freckles on the reddened cheeks and the way her brows curled upward in happiness.

A pang of guilt hit him straight in the chest. Here he was comparing her to her sister – the sister that had rejected him. The sister that was beyond his reach. The sister that had ripped his heart to shreds even when he had offered it with such sincerity. Anna was nothing like Elsa. She was so free with praise, so eager to please, so happy if just to be in his company. He was appreciated. He was welcome.

But it didn't change the fact that he didn't like her in the way she liked him.

"Anna?"

"Yes."

"I think we should-"

 _Bizzt!_ Anna whipped out her phone to check the notification. "Hang a sec."

Jack sighed, pursing his lips together. Inside, he knew that whatever little he had with Elsa was probably beyond saving, and perhaps not really worth saving, but Anna deserved to know why he had been so nice to her before. He had thought it was because he wanted to please Elsa at first, but the more time he spent with Anna, the more he realized that he did like the girl terribly. It was, well, just not the way she wanted.

He needed to clarify this with her before this 'relationship' of their snowballed into something regrettably irreversible.

"Whoa." The girl's bright expression suddenly dimmed, her brows knitting together as she scrutinised the screen. "Whoa, whoa, whoa-"

"What happened?" Jack wanted to lean closer to her to see what she was looking at, but checked himself in time. He was sending her enough mixed signals as it was.

She lifted the phone screen up for him to check himself. It was a hastily shot video that was one second filming a water polo game before switching to show someone falling off the viewing point on the second floor, straight into the pool. The shaking camera was lifted in time to the recognizable figure of blonde girl dashing away.

Jack's eyes widened. "Whoa."

~~~0~~~

Act 38: Where Helplessness was a Sucky Feeling

It was some time close to dusk where Nicholas St. North prepared to depart from his office. He didn't stay on the campus, but his own home was a mere ten minute drive from the place, so the journey back and forth was never an issue.

As he straightened up the papers on the table and locked other documents into the desk, he picked up the giant red bag that he kept all his 'goodies' (when anyone asked, he said that they were full of presents) and was about to rise up from his desk when he heard a knock on the office door.

Bushy brows lifting in surprise, he set his bag down on the floor and called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open and a quivering voice met him, "Principal North? Sorry to trouble you at this late hour-"

"No problem at all, my de-" he broke off when he realized who had entered. He knew her by face and name. "Elsa Arendelle."

"Sir," she greeted in a shaky voice, letting door fall shut behind her, her head downturned. He could see that she was trying to hold a calm posture with the straightened back and the clasped hands, but the trembling of her shoulders betrayed her.

"I see that you've finally decided to report to my office," he said, a voice too kind to be reprimanding yet to firm too be joking. He glanced out of the window, where the setting sun was dipping down on the horizon. "After, I only did repeat that announcement over the PA a dozen times this afternoon."

She noticed the gesture and that made her shudder even harder. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just… afraid."

North sighed as he sat himself back into his office chair. Children – such souls of passion and passionate errors. "Sit down, my dear."

The blonde girl slid herself into the chair. He leaned back to assess her. Her posture was as stiff as a board and her face held at a determined blank, but he could tell that she wasn't as emotionless as she tried to appear. The realm of the principal's office was still uncharted territory for a model student and no doubt she was fearful of what the future held in store for her.

He could see that she was eager to say something, so he decided to give her the opportunity to do so. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I'm-" the girl tried to collect herself by sucking in a long breath "-what happened to him?"

"He's quite fine, actually. Not even a scratch. Complains of dizziness and nausea, though the doctors aren't quite sure if it's related to falling at such a height." North held a pause to gaze at her, then leaning forward slightly as he did, "Why did you do it?"

The blonde student, sitting so primly in the chair, hesitated. "He said somethings that were quite … upsetting."

"So he provoked you." North nodded, not as a sign of approval as much as acknowledgement.

"Frankly, there has been animosity building between us for quite some time," she admitted ruefully, rubbing her hands together. He noticed oddly that one hand bore a glove while the other did not – a peculiar fashion statement he did not expect to see on someone as fastidious as her - but there was no time to question it now. "That had merely been its culmination."

"Indeed." The principal absorbed this in, before producing the next question, "Then what triggered it?"

"He was spilling a tirade of insults - about myself, about Jack-"

"Jack?" North's eyes widened with interest. "As in Jack Frost?"

"Yes," the girl confirmed quietly, tucking a hair behind ear as she hastily went on. "Then he started talking about my sister, and I, well, I couldn't take it more." She glanced down at her hand, a shadow falling over her face. She then glanced at him, a worried gaze. "Must this go down on record?"

North dipped his head forward to confirm this, though he did so with reluctance.

"Is there something I can do?" Her tone was level, but her eyes betrayed a pleading emotion. "I can't have a record – I simply can't. You see, Principal North, sir,-" she shifted herself on the chair, straightening herself up and looking at him "I've been studying very hard to be a doctor. It's-" she bit her lip "-it's something my father did and wanted me very much to do - a family heritage in a way. We've always been doctors. Anna's not going to be one doing it, obviously." She let out a scoff, but it was made too quickly to sound genuinely disgusted. "She doesn't have the ability, and I don't think she could take the commitment and stress and – well, no, I know I have to be the one. I _want_ to be the one, sir, but-" she grimaced, glancing down at her lap again, before eyes shooting back up to him "-do you think this 'incident' will affect it?"

North didn't answer at once, because, well, he didn't have the answer. Medical school was typically a graduate course, which meant that she would have to go through three to four years of undergraduate school before she could even be considered, and that was really some time from now. However, he understood the concern. Certain medical universities could be very picky in their admission criteria, and if they choose to focus on that black spot in her record instead of her mostly spotless history, it was at their own prerogative.

When he didn't voice his own opinion, the girl understood. She nodded slowly, conflict clear in her expression. "I see, sir. And I understand that you have a … commitment-" her fingers twisted against each other "-to present an accurate picture of your students, as much as possible. It wouldn't be fair otherwise, I suppose." Her pale lips had already curled themselves into a sad frown even as she uttered, "Thank for your time."

With that, the girl made her way out of the office, not waiting for whatever else the Principal had to say. Indeed, just as he had managed to formulate somewhat of coherent piece of advice, the girl was gone.

North let out a deep exhale. Sometimes he wondered why he had entered this job. It was that he didn't enjoy it, but one too many times, he had to admit that he felt too much for the students. So many of them were desperately unhappy and disappointed with themselves. So many unable to dream anymore.

"Well, Nicholas, old boy," he said to himself as he picked up the bag once again, "whatever are you gonna do with them?"

~~~0~~~

Act 39: Where The Cold Was Decidedly Unbothersome

Elsa took her time in returning back to her dorm. She took the longest route she could think of, even walking a big circle around the dorm buildings and not willing to enter them. She avoided everyone she could, as she had since after shoving Hans into the pool. She had even skipped the rest of the lessons that afternoon so as to avoid showing her face anywhere – something she never did. She could imagine people mocking her – the self-righteous Snow Queen giving into her temper, and in such a manner too! Oh, how would they love hanging it over her head! How they would taunt her and jeer at her!

So she found her way out into the park adjacent to the school. It was empty, and the gates were locked up, as they often were at late hours, but she found that some careless idiot had left the keys at the lock. She turned it and entered in, closing the metal fence behind her.

To be honest, she was never really one for nature, or the outdoors, or anything placed her in contact with dirt. She had never experienced the joys of camping or barbeques or hikes. To her, they were not even distractions – just undesirables, things she didn't in life. The way she didn't need friends. Or companions. Or the approval of the people that mattered the most to her.

Or the approval of people who cared about her.

She so happened to come across a bench along the park, so she sank down out it, chin rested under her curled fists. The wind was whistling through the trees above her and the full moon over head drew a speckled glow on her lap, where her hands were folded together.

Part of her knew that she being was ridiculous. If she had been any other person, she would have apologized to Hans by now – either by pressure from the teaching staff, or by pressure from peers, or by conscience itself. It was not as if crafting an apology was beyond her capabilities, nor was it as if she didn't know that her actions were wrong.

It was, well, she was pretty sure her apology would not be accepted. No, Hans would hold this against her for as long as he could – he was petty enough to. And she didn't care if he did, because she did hate him. That was the other reason. She doubted that she could be entirely sincere in her apology. The boy had deserved it – very much – and she had wanted very much to punch him. In a matter of fact, she was glad she did! It was still wrong, perhaps, but it was very satisfying.

What this was it was to be a rule-breaker? To solve problems through preferred means rather than the right way? To ignore the conscience in favor of the freedom?

But it wasn't as if freedom was free at all. No, there was a mark on her card now. It wasn't the greatest shame in the world. Most people had something or another on their cards for tardiness, or deriding teaching staff, or vandalism, or sleeping in class. Well, hers was punching a boy she hated.

The worse part was that she punched him because he was right about at least one thing: she hadn't cared about anyone else.

When she had sat on the tenterhooks the entire day, just itching for the day to pass by so that she could confront him over it, Anna had not been on her mind. It was only after Hans had pointed it out that she had noticed.

A shudder ran over and she clutched at her skirt as an unwelcome thought hit her. So when he had insulted Anna, had her anger only been stirred because she had _remembered_ that she was supposed to get offended? Because she had _remembered_ that she was supposed to be the elder sister was and _supposed_ to care? Wasn't her affection towards Anna supposed to be _automatic, instinctive,_ _visceral_ as the love between sisters was meant to be?

Was there any love between them, actually?

She did care about Anna – she knew that somewhere deep inside her she did. She wasn't sure however if Anna cared about her anymore. It wasn't as if she had done anything to deserve it in the recent years.

No, if Anna hated her, let her. She could take it. As long as she stuck with Jack, she would be looked after. He was a good person – not the best person, but good and sincere enough. Anna would be fine without her.

Elsa let out a deep exhale, suddenly feeling terrible exhausted. She glanced at her watch. If she had stuck to the stringent study schedule that she had subjected herself before, she would have wrapping up her history readings by now and would be preparing to sleep, to get rest for the next day's lesson, like the good girl she always had to be.

But she wasn't really a good girl, was she? She was in no way the kindest person around, and she was not as steadfast to her standards as she wants was. She wasn't exactly the average person, but it didn't mean that she was necessarily better than them either. For all she knew, she could be worst. That indeed would be a bitter pill to swallow.

She peered down at her hands. One was still gloved, while the other bare. After the hurrying away from the pool, she had somehow lost the other glove. She gazed critically down at the remaining one of the pair, before sliding it off.

There was a time that she had worn the glove purely for hygiene reason. She had a horrid allergy in her childhood that had affected her skin terribly and she had to wear them for protection. Later when the severity of the reactions subsided and the gloves became no longer a necessity, she still wore them, because there was scars from all the times she had scratched the rashes. She didn't want people to see them, especially when they were hands that were meant to cure illnesses. Well, they would be, she followed her father's path.

If that was still a permissible option.

The roadblock that she was hitting now was whether she wanted to go down this path. For so long, she had wanted to do it because that's what her parents wanted for her, and she wanted to please them. Well, she wanted to do what would have pleased them if they had been around, at least.

But perhaps this was the root of the problem. For so long she had been obsessed with fulfilling expectations and maintaining images. Now? She no longer really understood why she was doing what she did. She didn't even enjoy studying that much. She didn't find fulfillment in the things she did. She didn't even enjoy getting good grades, or completing tasks.

No, she did it because she was afraid. She was afraid of disappointing her parents, who were no longer here. She was afraid of what other people would think of her, and how they would gossip about her, and how they would sneer her. She was afraid that she would never meet her own perfect standards – the very thing that she had hinged her entire identity on.

' _Then don't,'_ something inside her said out of nowhere. _'Let it go.'_

Because her parents no doubt would already be disappointed with her. Because people were undoubtedly gossiping already. Because she knew her own perfect standards were impossible to reach.

She stared down at the glove for a long moment, then rose to her meet. There happened to be a trash bin down the bin, so she pulled open the lid and dropped the glove in. As she turned away to return to the path, a low-hanging branch suddenly caught her in its grip, snagging it. With a frustrated growl, Elsa had to yank her head hard away before the strands were freed. The bun came tumbling down then, unfolded from the delicate knot that had held it up before. She scooped up the fallen braid and was about twist back up, then decided against it. The bun was never that comfortable to begin with, and besides, she liked the feeling of the wind in her.

It was a strange to place to be, under the moonlight, in a place that she had never visited in all her five years of high school, arms bare against her side, allowing herself the moment of contemplation.

If trying to meet expectations what had failed her, then she wasn't try anymore. She didn't care what they say, so let them think what they want. Let them snub her, or laugh at her, or curse her if they will.

After all, they called her the 'Snow Queen', didn't they? She could deal with a little cold treatment.

~~~0~~~

Act 40: Where the Author Left a Note

If this had been any other story, no doubt the chapter would have ended with the previous Act. It more or less summed out the thoughts and feelings of conflict of our female lead and was, but there was one important point that the author had wanted to emphasize, and since there was no smooth way that she could possibly bring it in, she decided to add in a little 'memo', if you will, about something pretty important:

Our heroine was clearly an idiot.

And a teenager with serious rebellion issues.

And an ego as large as a snowcapped mountain.

And now the chapter ends.

Ends.

ENDS.

STOP.

FULL-STOP.

'#breakingfourthwallwithinafourthwallbreak'

'#whoohoo!'

'#ahahahahahah!Imsoannoying!'

~~~0~~~

 **Wow. That was a flood of reviews, and most were really strong opinions. I appreciate hearing all your thoughts, really. So thank you all for spending time writing about them! I think I would like to explain myself a bit:**

 **This is story has a way of getting out of my control. The thing is that I don't plan for this story as meticulously as I do for my others, so it can lead me to places that I hadn't intended to go. That's why you might find that this chapter and chapter 5 were considerably more serious than the first bunch of chapters. This had started off as a story on a whim, so it continues to be a story on a whim. If you were in from the start only for the humor, I promise you I think it will come back (in other words, it might not), so if you rather read other stuff now, I totally get it. I've always been a better writer of dark gloom (see almost all my other stories).**

 **That said, while this story is written mostly on the fly, it doesn't mean that I don't care about this story. I do care about the characters, and sometimes the gloom bits are the best places to develop them. I won't say that all the gloom bits are perfect though, so feel free to feel uncomfortable or sad in those parts. They are meant to be that way.**

 **As for the characters, it had been pointed out and I think it's fair to say they might be a little OOC. I usually try to avoid this, but I think considering the wacky-to-serious style that I've picked here, and the choice of a non-powered, modern AU, makes this dangerous territory. I'll try to navigate it to keep faithful to relationships and natures of the characters in the films. Note, if I do this too faithfully, well, there are consequences that might not be desirable.**

 **Oh, and yes. This important – the treatment of Jelsa fans in the story. I want to let it known that the jabs that I make against Jelsa fans is not specifically at the real Jelsa fans. Actually, it's more of commentary on people who ship people in real life e.g. like when you ship your classmates, or your friends, as opposed to shipping fictional characters. The thing about shipping fictional characters is that ultimately, well, they're fictional – in the grand scheme, they don't quite matter much.**

 **That said, real-life shipping can have consequences, especially if you have genuine influence over the people involved the ship. You might end up causing misunderstandings, or breaking up relationships, or creating relationships that end up breaking very badly, and so forth. If you genuinely have an opinion about the relationship, talk to the people in the ship personally and with respect, not just gossip it with others who are not involved and make photoshops on it. I personally think it's best to avoid even shipping like superstars with other superstars, simply because famous people are still people, and they don't deserve to be pushed around like dolls (or fictional characters) just because their fans like it in certain way. I'm sure that there're some famous people who don't mind it, but I'm sure that there are some that do and don't/can't voice it. So…best steer clear of that. Stick to fictional people for your shipping needs, battles and creativity.**

 **And that was my very long opinion. Wow. I'm exhausted.**

 **Guest Mailbox:**

 **Zenaida: Elsa does have some issues to work out at the moment, but once she's through them, maybe she might have a little more clarity in regards to Jack. That said – Jack has some of his own issues to work through too.**

 **Guest: Yes, she is mean. No problems in thinking that.**

 **Polar Panda: Haha, okay. I hope this will continue to be somewhat readeable then, and I understand that bias must drive you too love your sister's writings more. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Noname: Yikes! That was a harsh line, wasn't it? Well, Elsa has serious development to go through before she's going to become, well, nice. I'm sorry that the story is getting progressively less funny, but I think it wouldn't make sense storywise if everything was all quirky all the time. The characters wouldn't be able to grow.**

 **That's all for me from a while. If you've enjoyed this, or you haven't, leave a review.**

 **Shar out.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi! Sorry for not updating since forever. Enjoy!**

~~~0~~~

Act 41: Where Our Characters Became Infected With a Deadly Paralytic Disease

If the World Heath Organization ever came down to this particular high school that has been the setting of our tale, they would discover that a rather unusual affliction had befallen its students. The symptom included bouts of amnesia – thank goodness, only short-lived – temporary loss of motor functions or, on occasion, too much motor function, and a variety of bruises, abrasions and superficial abrasions on different parts of the body, not limited but including the head, feet, ribs and oddly the pinky finger.

This plague that had descended upon the school population because an environmental change combined with a known pre-existing condition as well as an accentuating factor, which were as follows:

Environmental Change: The Snow Queen looked different. And when I said _different,_ I mean, ' _absolutely, entirely,_ _different with_ _as much similarities_ _as_ _a platypus and the Communist Manifesto._ _'_

Pre-existing Condition: Incredible Busybodiness.

Accentuating factor: Juicy rumours involving a dead 'ship', a possible sort of 'prank-gone-wrong-maybe-attempted-murder?' and a love-triangle so cliché that it would make Rom-com tropes cry.

The result of this was a neat dish of metaphorical pathogens that infected everyone and subsequently stricken the students with this new and alarming ailment.

One of the fellows who was about to succumb to this deadly disease was actually none other than our hero himself, who had surprisingly been able to wake up at an earthly hour and was pressed and fresh and ready for an unexciting day of high school life, bearing an expression of calm when he found himself colliding into the person who was walking in front of him. This wasn't really our hero's fault, actually, for though he had a remarkable affinity with trouble-making and mess-creation, he was not in any mood for silliness at the moment. No, the blame fell squarely on the student in front of him who had unexpectedly halted his steps, which resulted in Jack slamming straight into him.

"Hey!" The white-haired boy drew himself back, rubbing his smarting elbow and hissing. The student however did not provide any explanation or apologies. He didn't even move!

Scowling, Jack adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, tightened his grip on his stack of files and pushed past the fellow on the front. He made past five steps before he realised that almost everyone else around him had been immobilised, rooted to the spot and jaw-dropped. It took him eight steps to conclude that this was not due to aliens taking over the satellites and projecting a paralysing radio signal to neutralise the human threat and usher in the colonisation of Earth by their race. It took him ten to finally turn his head and check on what they were looking at.

And wow, what a sight it was.

Gone were the dull, studious colors, replaced with a resplendent combination of glaring white and bright blue. It occurred to him then that he had only seen her wear pants five times in his life, and definitely not jeans, which actually accentuated her figure in a flattering manner. Gloves had vanished and now bangles circled her wrists instead, clinking in time with her steps. The near-translucent cardigan barely hid the fact that the rigid blouses had been discarded for a tank top, and the serviceable shoes had been transformed into – holy! How high were those boots? The white-gold hair and the sapphire eyes made it clear that he had not been mistaken, but he couldn't help but question whether it was an illusion all the same.

The crowd only moved to part itself so that she could walk and she did so in the lofty manner that she had always done. But unlikely the stiff, expressionless stomp, there was a lightness about her steps and a smile on her face - the kind of smile that one would wear when they knew a delightful secret that you didn't. Confidence oozed from her every gesture and she swept past them without a glance, as if the weight of their stares was nothing more than a breeze on a summer's walk. Or perhaps in her case, a winter's walk. (Because she's the Snow Queen, and in this tale, that would make it obligatory to throw in a snow-related pun every few sentences.)

Jack stood frozen (see? See what I did there?) to the ground, with his neck muscles the only part capable of movement as his followed her as she strutted down the corridor, swaying side to side carelessly like one moving according to an unheard melody of a catchy Broadway-esque number. He only managed to recover his motor abilities when someone crashed into him, shocking him back into his sense and he gasped in a breath that he had forgotten to inhale.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," he heard a dry voice mutter by his side, followed by a loud crunch as the burly blonde boy ripped a bite of the carrot in his hand. The choice of his snack earned a quizzical look from Jack, to which Kristoff just said, "What?"

"Carrots in the morning?"

"Why not? They're healthy, sweet, organic with a refreshingly clean taste and a neat work-out for the jaws," the junior student answered defensively, taking another bite. "And don't try to change the subject. You still look like a corpse that just been resurrected."

"I do not," Jack contradicted, feeling a surge of annoyance rising up him just the way blood rose to his cheeks. He marched up to his locker and stuck the key in, yanking the door a bit too roughly.

"I mean, I don't blame you. You're kind of a pale-looking fellow in the first place," Kristoff went on as if the other boy had said nothing. "And she was certainly dressed to kill."

Jack tried to shrug indifferently – 'try' because he was using his now-bruised elbow to keep the worksheets he had stuffed into the locker from spilling out while slotting his files in the gap, and also because he was trying genuinely not to care. He was supposed to be dating _Anna_. You know, the nice kid with plaits who seemed to match him so well in personality, liked everything about him and thought that he was the best thing on the planet after the Backstreet Boys and sandwiches. Who cared if her sister was drop-dead gorgeous? And had an incredible complex yet magnetic personality? And was fiercely passionate about what she believed in? And that he had totally crushed on her for more than half his life?

He sighed as the worksheets, despite his efforts, still spilled out on the floor like a waterfall. The boy peered down at his mess with a scowl before crouching down and scooping them up as quickly as he could. He didn't want to be late for class, even if it was just chemistry.

As he scurried about the deed, he glanced up at the blonde junior who was watching him with mild interest and still munching on the orange snack. "Well,-" Jack waved his hand frustratedly at the scattered sheets "-aren't you gonna help?"

Kristoff glanced at the mess, then back at his carrot, then answered, "Nope."

Jack rolled his eyes and huffed, straightening out the papers in his hand. He glared at the junior boy who blatantly took another bite out of the carrot. "Why do I even hang out with you?"

Kristoff opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it. Pursing his lips, he pondered for a good half-a-minute, then remarked rather ruefully, "Hmm, I have no idea." He considered the other boy with a critical eye. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

~~~0~~~

Act 42: Where Transformations Were Met with Some Distress

"Who are you and what have you done with Elsa?"

The blonde girl blinked, brushing back the bangs falling over her forehead. She wasn't completely adjusted to her new look and admittedly having hair flying wherever the wind blew was not as easy to handle as movies and shampoo commercials made it out to be. But she had made a decision and she was sticking by it. Besides, it was the first time she had ever genuinely liked whatever she saw in the mirror.

So when Elsa ran into her roommate while reapplying her maroon-coloured lipstick in the girls' bathroom, the Scottish-born girl just stared at her as if she were a bright red zebra wearing a sign saying _"Long live the font of Arial, no matter what the weird green aliens say!"_

Though she was not completely pleased with this less than approving response, Elsa merely drew herself away from the mirror and flashed Merida a bright smile. "Well, this is the new me, and a 'me' that I much rather prefer, thank you."

She then leaned herself over the sink and reattempted to transfer the silvery powder from the tin container that she had purchased online the night before (surprise! She had discovered the wonders of online shopping!) onto her eyelids. It had been ages since she had ever had to colour her lids and she had to admit that her skills were quite rusty. Still, she doubted anyone that was really going to pay attention to the lack of symmetry between the lilac hues around her eyes and if they did, she didn't really care. As of yesterday night, she had come to the conclusion of that perfection was severely overrated after all.

Merida watched her with the same morbid fascination that one would have in watching an open heart surgery, looking more and more incredulous every second. Elsa couldn't help the small smirk on her lips as she noted the other girl's expression. It was much the same as everyone else in the school when they saw her, and while she didn't want to be too caught up in people's opinion of her, it was certainly fun to pull the rug under their feet.

Finally, the redhead asked, "Soooo, need help with that?"

Elsa paused, hand stilled mid-air from painting on the silvery layer on her skin. She then gave Merida a long look through the mirror, corner of her mouth downturned.

After a moment to ponder, the other girl nodded. "Yeah, fine. I suck at all this lady stuff."

~~~0~~~

Act 43: Where Someone Flipped Their Lid and a Scapegoat Appeared

It only hit him straight in the gut after he sat down that the first lesson of the day was chemistry. Chemistry – that subject about molecules and compounds, with the periodic table and a measure of Math and Physics thrown in for fun every now and then. Chemistry – one of the two classes that he shared with her.

He thought of picking a seat nearer the front, reasoning out that it might the best place to avoid her gaze, but then the row was filled as other classmates scrambled in, just in time with as the bell rang. He glanced around the room while pulling his hoodie over his head. She was nowhere in sight at the moment. His eye however caught that of his redheaded rival, who glowered at him after their gazes met. Jack in return pulled a face, crossing his eyes, yanking the sides of his mouth apart with his fingers and sticking his tongue out. As childish as it was, it was effective at disgusting the other boy and Hans appeared about to rise from his seat to confront him when the chemistry tutor arrived, heels clacking on the floor efficiently.

"Alright, alright, shush all this clamor!" Weaseltown – ahem, Weselton's annoying drawl rang out. The noise settled, but only a little. "We've got finals to prepare for and I won't have any nonsense this morning."

Jack wasn't sure what made him shift his gaze to the back door, but he did swing around and there she was – the 'new' Elsa, still in the tank top and the ripped jeans and braid swinging loosely behind her head. She marched through into the classroom without so much as an announcement, but yet it felt that everything around him that was so familiar and dull just screamed her presence all the more. The bangles jingled as she dropped her books onto the only remaining empty table and slid herself into the only remaining seat, but by the way she did it, one would imagine that that was the best seat in the house and it had been reserving itself just for her.

Unfortunately, that meant that he wasn't the only one who had noticed her entrance.

"Ms. Arendelle," Weselton's snooty voice sounded extra snooty, with snobbishness and sliminess on the side, "you're late."

"I apologise," she answered, voice clear and unapologetic. He couldn't help but watch her, dazzled by the defiance of her expression and her manner. There was no reservation in manner, no carefully concealed emotion. Her disdain for the chemistry tutor was evident on every inch of her face.

That said, Weselton was by no means an observant one and he did not take the warning signs. He took a long sniff and stepped towards the girl. "A simple apology is insufficient to right wrongs, Ms. Arendelle."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that tardiness was indeed such an Earth-shattering crime." That rebuttal was unexpected, for the Snow Queen, for all her chilliness, had always known her place as a student. Retorts and comebacks were always under Jack Frost's ' _List of Self-Induced Suicide_ ', not hers. Yet, Jack couldn't help but feel that her behaviour, while a little jarring, was refreshing honest. He had guessed for a while that she had nothing but contempt for the Chemistry tutor, but she had never confronted the old man on it before.

"Well, that and your little display yesterday at the pool," the insufferable fool of a Weselton went on his snivelling, scornful manner, staring her down his long nose. Clucking his tongue and shaking his head, "Such terrible behaviour, and from one of my student too! One would think you were raised by mongrels, or bears, by the way you act. Simply atrocious."

"Much like your balding," the girl said without missing the beat, tapping her fingers impatiently along the table as she did. Though her voice was quiet, everyone in the class heard and immediately erupted in laughter.

Gazing around the chuckling class, the small man bristled, his face turning almost red as he smoothed out his toupee. His glare was so fierce that Jack was a little surprise that he hadn't burned her face off. "North is much too lenient with you. If I ran this school, you would have been _expelled_!" He clamped a hand down on her table with a sharp thud, silencing the laughter at once. "And I would have every school in the state no what monstrous girl you are. Rude, ill-bred – undoubtedly, it runs in the family. Why, just the other day when I took your sister in class, she was most unruly and-"

"Mr. Weaseltown," Elsa cut him off with a biting tone. Her face had turned white with anger upon the mention of her sister, and her hands which he had never seen bare before clenched the corners of the table as she rose off her seat.

"It's Weselton!" He snapped at her furiously. "Weselt-" then, there was something in her gaze that finally struck him dumb, and he stumbled a few steps back as she towered over him, the heels of her boots giving her a greater boost in height over his.

She cut to the chase immediately. "In all the years that I had been under your tutelage, I had been aware of your immense dislike of me. It's highly unprofessional for a teacher to show prejudice. It's an especially unbecoming behaviour for one of your qualifications." It might be a trick of the light, but the weasel-like man seemed to wince. "Of course, I understand that I must intimidate you with the very fact that I am and has always been smarter than you. " There's no arrogance in the manner she said it, because there was no need. It was completely true. "I understand that you're overinflated ego requires an outlet and I accept that you are always going to petty enough to nit-pick on the tiniest errors of any poor soul that comes under your authority. But Mr. Weasel-town?"

"It's We-" in the end, the man just gives up and sighs. His shoulders slouching and looking desperately unhappy, he said, "What?"

She looked him over, grimaced visibly, and finally said, "You're in your late sixties with multiple chronic ailments. Wearing heels not only makes you look ridiculous, it's accentuates the possibility of you developing bunions on your feet, especially with how far along your diabetes is. You're highly likely to have problem walking in the near future." There might be a slight note of derision when she added, " Just accept that you are … _vertically challenged_ and move on with life."

There was complete quiet as Elsa's word continue to echo in the room, only broken by the fumblings the Chemistry tutor trying not to not to collapse into an epileptic fit, "Well, - I – well, - um – you id- um-" Weselton paused for a good while, then wheezed to the rest of the class, "Um, I am – goodness – I'm not feeling – Um, I need a moment, yes, um, a moment. I'll be back shortly. Please, well,-" he scrambled down the row, trying not to fall over the legs and bags that obstructed his escape "-well, revise, um, I don't know, _something."_

And he raced out of the classroom, with a notable limb in his step.

The class watched him go in awe, then turned to the blonde girl, who merely gathered up her things and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Glad to have that finally of my chest. That, and those heels are undoubtedly an eyesore, if I'd ever seen one." Noting the curious stares at her, she said blithely, "Well, I'll see myself out. Go do-" she just waved her hand in the air "-something productive."

With her piece said, she moved down the aisle, books under her arm and disappeared out of the door.

There was a unnatural quiet after Elsa had left the room. Finally, someone said, "Free period!"

And then class erupted into an uproar.

"No Chem!" someone hooted.

"No Weaseltown!" another yelled, while throwing some exercise sheets in the air.

"CLASS PARTY!"

"CLASS PARTY AND FOOD!"

"CLASS PARTY AND FOOD AND MEGA DANCE-OFF!"

"CLASS PARTY AND FOOD AND MEGA DANCE-OFF AND BRIDGE!"

Everyone halted their excited chittering to stare at the one who had thrown in the last comment.

"What?" that student asked, unabashed, pulling the deck of cards from his pocket and starting to shuffle it up. "You know you love it."

The senior year students were reduced to a throng of insane, rambunctious pre-school kids in the bodies of teenagers, plugging their phones into the speakers and blasting them with latest rave hits. Curtains were drawn over the windows and the doors were shut to keep the outsiders out. Tables and chairs were pushed to the side of the room and the projector was colonized by someone who watched to watch dance videos from the main computer, then by another who wanted watch prank videos, then by another who wanted to watch vegan cooking recipes.

Some people were already just going wild with the music, shamelessly moving their bodies in rhythm that wasn't quite on the rhythm with the music but no one cared enough to tell them that. Others left the classroom and came back bearing gifts from the vending machine in the form of chips, chocolate coated-tidbits and assorted of junk foods that their peers happily stole from them. Somewhere in the corner of the class, a small group of students sat themselves on the tables and began dealing out the cards for undoubtedly what was the greatest card game there ever was.

Only one white-haired boy sitting solitary at one of the tables had yet to plunge into the fun. He was playing with the edge of his exercise book, a doubtful expression on his face as he eventually set it down and turned to the first page. It wouldn't wise to waste the entire period away and it'd be a pity to lose his nice looking grades at this point. Not that, um, he cared. That much. Maybe.

Of course, the whole thing couldn't exactly go unnoticed. At some point, one of the cleaning staff noticed that an unhealthy amount of noise emerging from the creaks of the room, and this staff was none other than Phil, whom most just called the Yeti, possibly due to his large feet that could only be worthy of a Bigfoot like figure. So, 'The Yeti' decided to inspect this peculiarity and since the door wasn't locked, he managed to open it and found himself gazing upon into the technicolor disorder that was teen exuberance.

The students, of course, knew at this point they had been caught redhanded and stood speechless as the cleaning staff and themselves tried to decide what the best course of action was.

Of course, one of the boys was quick on his feet and immediately stuck a finger out at the white-haired boy sitting in the corner. "It was his idea. All of it, down to scaring Mr. Weselton out of here."

Jack's jaw fell open, aghast. He could gaze up his accuser with hate, and Hans merely smirked back, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

Phil grunted an unintelligible clutter of words that Jack knew were instructions to folow.

The boy let out a long groan, wringing his hands in the air. He knew that throwing in any defences for himself wasn't going to be worth it in front of the cleaner who had mopped the outcome of his pranks over the past few years.

"Let's get this over with," he murmured, shooting one last glare at Hans. His rival merely shrugged in careless manner. If he could, Jack would drag him back to the balcony of the pool and throw him in all over again – though he would much rather stay away from large bodies of water for the time being.

Phil nodded and took him off to his usual destination. North's blood pressure was probably going to act up again.

~~~0~~~

Act 44: Where The New Look Got Mixed Reviews

" _-and don't forget, nominations for Prom King and Queen are open till tomorrow!"_ The voice of the Prom committee chair's voice rang out in the PA system. _"Note that the titles are only open to senior year students, so all your underclassmen, stop throwing your names in! I know who you guys are! I have access to the school system, so don't think I don't know, because I do! You're making a huge unnecessary mess and wasting paper slips, so stop it!"_ There was a clearing of the throat as the announcement returned back to the brighter tone. _"So! Sign up for yourself or anyone you think suitable soon!"_

She had her class schedule drilled into her head ages ago, so she knew that it was an hour or more before she had to go for the next literature class. She sighed as she thought of it. Knowing her tutor pretty well, she knew that most of the paper would have been marked and given out yesterday afternoon. Not only would she receive a thorough dressing down for playing hooky after her little stunt at the pool, she was not looking forward to looking at that essay on 'prejudice' again. She knew that she had been very distracted whilst writing that. Not that she had been very distracted recently.

But the past was in the past. She never was that fond of her essays and she never liked all these silly tests, so who cares? It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anymore, really.

"Elsa?"

Well, mostly nothing.

Anna was frozen stark stiff just ten steps away from her, eyes almost seeming to bulge out of their pockets. The sandwich that she had been halfway through munching was poised in mid-air, falling only as her own arms dropped in surprise. Her sister's expression was a mix of shock, admiration, conflict and uncertainty. Elsa supposed she could hardly blame her. After all, the last time the both of them actually saw each other was when the boy who had a crush on her became her sister's boyfriend. Understandably, any interaction between them was going to be awkward. No amount of make-up, boots and ripped jeans was going to cure that. It was no surprise that every fibre of her was thus screaming for her to flee the scene.

So much for _'don't feel'_.

"Anna," she greeted in return in a simple, neutral tone. It seemed ridiculous how quickly she reverted back to her old self in front of her sister. Just a moment ago, she hadn't a care in the world and now she felt emotion threatening burst out of her every seam in her body. She could imagine Anna calling her hypocrite, or remarking snidely about her losing her temper with Hans, or taunting her about Jack Frost was like the best boyfriend in the world or something.

But her sister just stood there, twirling her strawberry blonde braid and gaping at her as if she was the Queen of England, coming to visit this dowdy, unimpressive excuse of a high school.

Elsa found her hands gripping onto each other tightly behind her back, not quite knowing what else to do. She wasn't even sure if she should meet her sister's gaze, so even few seconds her head dropped to her floor, then back up, then back down again.

"You-you look different," she heard Anna say in a small voice.

She lifted her head in surprise.

"It's a good different," Anna hastily added, a hint of a smile forming between the rosy cheeks. There was a slight shake in the voice though, as if this comment itself was merely to test how far the conversation was allowed to proceed.

"T-t-th-" she checked herself. She could almost feel the cold crawling out of her voice. She tried again with a small smile, "Thank you."

Anna's face changed like the sun rising over a gloomy night, almost turning brighter instantly. A wide grin opened up on her face. "I love the boots," she gushed with great enthusiasm, "they're very classy."

"They are, aren't they?" Elsa conceded in what she hoped was in a light tone, twisting her ankles about as she examined her own footwear. She was grateful that they had managed to veer away from dangerous topics, like when she had officially made an amazon account for the purposes of rapid consumerism, or the 'whys' of even picking out a new wardrobe. "I quite like the snowflake pattern on it. Seems to fit me."

"I like it too." Anna beamed with an overtly approving expression. A fleeting flicker of worry crossed her face, so she started just awkwardly, "So, um, is this like a one-off thing or-" she made a wild gesture, trying to get her to fill the blank in herself.

"Oh, err…" Elsa honestly didn't know. She had lived so long with a strict plan of how she was going to anything and everything of her every day, and now? Well, she hadn't even had clue on what she was going to do in the next five minutes. "Well, I'll see how it goes."

"Oh, um, great," Anna said, a note of relief at the end of that breath. She took a glance at her phone and then cringed. "Oh, great, I'm gonna be late for lab class." She glanced frantically at Elsa, then back at her phone. "Ummm."

The blonde girl jerked her towards the open pathway behind her, nodding willingly. "Oh, go on ahead. Please."

"Oh. Er, okay." The girl tightened her worksheets to her chest, not quite taking her eyes off her as she inched passed her, a heaviness in her every step.

It took a good minute or so before it really sunk into Elsa the truth of her sister's reluctance to leave right now. After years of the cold treatment, the fresh change was a welcome one and Anna wanted desperately to continue this conversation with the smiling, beaming sister, perhaps hoping to stay in what could only be a dream. Fighting against the instincts that wanted to make her room into the girl's bathroom and hide for an hour, the blonde girl posed a question with much uncertainty, "Well, um, are you free after school today?"

Her sister's eyes went huge once again, sparkling turquoise lighting up like candles on a cake. "Y-yes. Yes. YES! I'm definitely free after school. I'm so free! I'm super-duper free! I mean, okay, the volley ball team is holding try-outs, but _phhhhhffff!_ I mean, volley ball? Me? I mean, I'm pretty mean in most games, and the captain says I've got a good swing, but I can't really aim that well and honestly jumping and running that much hurts lots, so I'm not really that that interested in go-" noting that Elsa's expression had turned into one that was bewildered, Anna cleared her throat and tried again. "Um, yes. I'm free. Why? Um, got, erm, a-a-anything in mind?"

"Well, um, I think I'm going to need more clothes," Elsa said, trying to make her voice sound even, "and I suppose I'll need some help in picking them out-"

"Yes! Brilliant! We can even get Prom dresses and everything!" gushed Anna before she could stop herself, almost jumping on the spot in her ecstasy. "Totally! Let's go! Um, I'm mean-" suddenly realizing how much ahead she was "- _erm_ , if that's okay with you, if that's what you meant-" she blinked "-wait, what?"

"I think five-thirty would be good?" Elsa couldn't quite suppress a smile on her face.

Anna nodded so hard that the other girl feared it might roll off her shoulders any moment. "Great! Five-thirty. Fantastic! Superb! See you!"

Finally feeling the pull of conscience and her responsibilities as a student, Anna dashed down the hall to the destination that she was supposed to have arrived at five minutes ago. But, of course, she wouldn't mind being scolded. No, it was worth for the moment – the moment that her sister actually _smiled_ at her.

But the blonde girl did not and could not completely understand the importance of the exchange. Not when she had been the one sitting behind the door, rather than the one knocking. She wasn't quite able to comprehend the lightness that she felt in her own chest as she strolled passed the lockers, over to her own metal cabinet where she dumped most of her homework. For all her vows to leave behind the concealment, perhaps that there were some parts of herself that she had concealed too well over the years and now, she could no longer recognize the masks.

Then – "You look… different."

The same words in an entirely different tone, and also an unwelcome voice.

The girl raised her head, pushing back the white-gold locks that threatened to fall over her eyes as she met the gaze of the dark figure looming eerily a few feet from her. The 'death glare' of his would have sent others shrouding in the darkness, but she had never feared, even before her 'transformation'.

"I see that you're out of class," she told the lanky, brooding fellow, brows narrowed together suspiciously.

"As are you." Pitch gestured to her with a bony hand, an amused hint of grin forming on his pale countenance. "An odd choice, for someone who's usually so …-"

"Goody-two-shoes?" she suggested, jaw tightening.

"I was going to say 'disciplined'," he said, and that was when she finally caught the note of irritation in his words. "It's not like you to be a break the rules."

"Pots and kettles, Pitch. You're presence here right now proves I'm not the only one playing truant." She slammed the door of locker for the emphasis. "And besides, you're hardly the authority of what I am and what I am not, are you?"

The challenging tone was not lost on him and he smiled wanly at her. "You haven't lost your tongue. Thank heavens for that." There was something almost scathing in the way that he examined her mode of dress, as its very presence offended him. "At least not everything about has gone southward into the depths of the abyss."

If she were wiser, she would step away from the conversation. She would leave Pitch and his bitter words behind her. But curiosity fuelled by pride drove her to inquire the deadly question - "What do you mean?"

"You've succeeded in conforming to the fashions of the school population and have successfully internalized the self-orientated lies of the 21st Century media," he sneered. "No doubt the rest what had made you unique would undoubtedly flushed into the gutters any moment, replaced by the plasticized artificially that seems to permeate this cesspool of a high school."

She rolled her shoulders back, taking a step towards him. "I'm hardly doing do this 'conform' into the population."

"Yes." He merely flashed a toothy grin at her. "I'm sure that is what you tell yourself."

Before she could prod him to explain himself, the door of one of the nearby classrooms opened. On instinct, her head whipped back and a surge of panic ran up her spine. For all her bravado, there was a part of her that still worried of the consequences. Sure, in her mind, she could tell herself that she didn't care, but rationality was a difficult habit to kick at times.

Fortunately, the ones emerging from the classroom were merely exchange students and they had no knowledge of her or her startling transformation, so they past her with a mere glance, continuing to chatter to one another in their own language. By the time she had heaved a sigh of relief and leaned herself back against the locker, Pitch was gone. All that was left behind only a small note stuck to her locker.

 _You know where to find me when you need me._

 _P.B._

She had to admit that while he didn't her, the things he said, well, they were certainly words that her old self could not help but consider.

She read the note once more and pulled a face. He said 'when', not 'if', as if her seeking his assistance was not an option but inevitably. She scowled and yank the piece off, crunching up in her hand. Then she paused, and smoothen it out. She then removed a pen from the side pocket of her bag and scribbled down an arrow at the 'P.B.' and then wrote 'Peanut Butter'. Elsa smiled at her little edit, before crunching the paper into a ball again and tossing it on the floor.

Of course, she wouldn't realize that later another student from her year would have the fortune of acquiring that piece of litter and immediately worked out who P.B. was and thought the whole 'Peanut Butter' thing was hilarious, and decided to start a hashtag called _#PitchBlackPeanutButter._

But that's another story. Moving on-

~~~0~~~

Act 45: Where Our Hero was Made to Confront Certain Fears

Jack had been summoned to the guidance counsellor office's almost every year, but he had never gone. There was always better things to do before, like painting his rival of the week's apartment door dirty yellow or disassembly the heater in the guy's shower in the morning (he had no fear of cold water, so he wasn't affected). But now, he somehow no longer felt a huge inclination to do any of these things. Instead, all that rolled in his mind was how much content he could possibly be missing out by not being in class. It was great reluctance that he knocked on the glass door that North had pointed him to and he waited.

The door opened and the boy found to his surprise that there was no one in the gap.

 _TAP TAP._

Then he looked down and saw a short, plum man rapping his knuckles against the door frame. Jack realized that while he had never officially been introduced to him, he had seen this oddly cuddling-looking man with springy yellow hair walking around the school before.

The short man gazed up him and smiled.

"Um,-" Jack finding a tad odd that a teacher would greet him with such cheer "-hi?"

The counsellor gestured for him to enter, so he followed him into the office. It was almost like stepping into North's, except that the theme was gold and yellow. Pictures of planes and constellations were pinned along the midline of every wall and glittered wallpaper gaze the place a rather surreal, dreamy appearance. Jack sat down at the plush chair offered to him with a quizzical expression, and his puzzlement only increased when he saw the counsellor seat himself in front of a computer. The computer was hooked to two screens, one lay down on an incline before the consuellor, just behind the keyboard, while the other one faced Jack. Both were still angled such that Jack could still look at this peculiar fellow, whose title was 'Sanderson McSnoozie, B.A.".

Then words appeared on the screen - _"Hi Jack! It's great that you've finally turned up for your appointments - haha. I'm Sanderson, but you can just call me Sandy. No 'Mr.' or 'sir' here. I'm not a teacher."_

Jack blinked as he read the words, then glanced at the counsellor in bewilderment.

The man only made a secretive smile, before typing out the next sentence. _"Ah! The mysterious method of communication! No doubt this has befuddled you!_ _"_ Sandy flashed a smile along with his digital smiley as his fingers danced on the board. _"Well, I kind of lost my ability to talk when I was younger, but thank goodness, modern technology has managed to mitigate some of that."_

Jack pulled a face in sympathy after reading it. "Oooh, that's tough."

The counsellor shrugged, then typed, _"Eh. Childhood trauma. What can you do about them?"_ He paused, looking at the boy across the table. _"From what I understand from North, you've had an incident or two as a child."_

Jack stiffened, unconsciously clutching himself by the elbows. The fluffy gold carpet under his feet was suddenly terribly interesting.

(Actually, a furry gold carpet is EXTREMELY interesting. Just think about it. Wouldn't you want to just have one in your bedroom so that you can sit on it and imagine that you're riding a magic carpet, with the magic carpet being so exceeding comfortably that you could even sleep on it? No? Just me? Well. Hmmph.)

He heard the tapping sound again from the counsellor and looked up to him. The small man jerked his head to screen, and there Jack read, _"We do not need to talk about this if it makes you uncomfortable."_

"Well, yeah," the boy said, dragging his words out. He shifted in his chair. "Well, I'd rather not talk about it right now.

The counsellor nodded without a word, yet managed to convey his empathy to the boy. He then typed, _"It seems that you've shown a remarkable improvement in your academic grades, so perhaps your performance at the final year exams would not be completely horrible. However, North wanted me to address your conduct grade. Apparently, the … 'deeds of mischief' that you have accumulated over the years has made quite a black mark on your report card. Even if your academics prove to be good enough, it is doubtful that even a community college would accept you."_

Jack winced.

" _However,"_ Sandy quickly went on after seeing his response, _"Not all hope is lost yet. Maybe we can try to fix it up a bit so it doesn't look so terrible. Who knows? We might even get you into a decent course once you graduate."_ He gave him a serious look, before continuing on, _"I have a few ideas, but if anything is going to work, I'm going to need your full cooperation."_

Jack sighed. He hated all these kind of things: the sucking-up, the poised posturing, the competitiveness, the 101 essays telling people why they were so fantastic. He hated it. But a wiser part of him – a part of him that he had done so well in burying for so long – told him that if he couldn't keep pranking around anymore. It was a sobering thought, actually, realising that the trickster had to restrained if he was ever going to make a decent living.

If he was ever going to make some use of this life he didn't really deserve to have.

Biting his lip, he then said, "Okay, what do I need to do?"

~~~0~~~

Act 46: Where Non-believers Ruled the Day

"Peer Tutoring? Ha. Ha. Hahahahaha."

Jack frowned at the non-believer. "Rude."

"What? It's hilarious." Bunnymund guffawed hard to prove his point, not caring that his roommate was sending a pointed look.

Both of them were making down courtyard, which had only grown in the amount of Prom-related debris – ahem, I mean, _decorations_ accumulate all around. Students now lined up to cast their nominations for the Prom King and Queen, gossiping amongst themselves about the how dreadfully long the queue was, the possible candidates, the canteen food, how dreadfully long the queue was, what they were going to wear for the event when it finally came around, and also how dreadfully long the queue was such that they were all going to be late for class, but who cared? Queueing in line was better than going for class.

"I'm sure I could tutor people if I wanted to." Jack was clearly offended, weaving himself around the teenagers as he followed after the other boy.

"Sure," Bunnymund made a derisive noise as . "I'm sure your future students will all score 'As' in the 'Getting Thrown Out of Class' Topic."

The white-haired eyed his companion with a disgusted expression. "You're a really depressing person to be around, you know that?"

"Around you, yes," was the Australian student's unrepentant reply.

"Hey, guys!" That was a greeting from Tooth, who was manning the nomination slips today. Both approached the table where she was arranging the sheets in order and putting them into a small opaque chest. It was to protect the identity of the nominees for build-up purposes, Jack could only assume. "Thinking of nominating anyone? It closes tomorrow."

"With a queue like that?" Bunnymund angled his head towards the horrendous queue. "No thanks." He scrutinized the line of students, who were scribbling their desired candidates on given sheet while waiting in line. "Can't imagine why so many people are queuing up, unless they're all nominating themselves."

"I wouldn't be surprised," the girl muttered, dragging a hand down her face as she did, sighing heavily. She then turned to Jack, a smile lighting up her face as she saw him. "So, how are you? Heard you got in trouble again. That, and your girl got a major makeover."

She let out a low hum. "You know, she's actually quite pretty. I get what you see in her."

"Well, actually I don't like Elsa solely because of her looks. It's a bit more complicated th-" he broke himself off as he realized how he phrased his answer. "Wait. Hang a sec. Elsa's not 'my girl'." He crooked his fingers next to head for emphasis. "In a matter of fact, I don't really have 'a girl', unless you count Anna, 'coz we're sort of together." He pursed his lips together. "I think. We never made it official, or anything."

Tooth peered up at him with a wry look. "Why are you even dating her? You don't like her."

Jack groaned, flailing his arms in exasperation. "You too? Why does everyone think I don't like Anna? I _do_ like her! Just as a, well, -"

"A friend." Tooth finished his sentence for him.

"A hope-to-be-girlfriend's sister." Bunnymund supplemented her own version.

"A companion to match your optimism," Tooth added, with a quiet smile.

"A companion who'd match your stupidity."

"A starry-eyed disciple to your shenanigans."

"A fangirl who'd overlook your propensity for self-destruction."

"The person who ultimately destroyed the perfection of the Jelsa ship!"

The company paused their teasing of Jack to glance at the student who had just thrown in the last line. The white-haired boy then remarked, "Um, you're not in this conversation."

" _Yeeeeaaaaahhh_."The intruder's shoulders drooped and she sighed while sliding away, shamefaced.

"Anyway,-" Jack turned back to his two friends, "-you-" pointing at Bunnymund "-and you-" pointing now at Tooth "-are incredibly discouraging people. I'm going to find Kristoff." With that said, he spun on his heel and stalked off.

"Poor boy." Tooth let a sympathetic huff. "He's too nice for his own good."

"Nice?" Bunnymund sniffed disapprovingly. "Well, I guess he's about as nice as a rash your back that you can't reach to scratch."

"Bunny." Her tone was chiding. She shook her head at the athlete, frowning at him. "At least he replies when I text him. You still haven't gotten back to me on the question I asked you two weeks ago. Are we going to wear matching Prom outfits or not?"

The Australian student when abruptly quiet, beginning to slowly inch his way from the booth. "Um," he stuttered, beads of cold sweat running down the side of his forehead, "I have, err, to … ."

And with that, he vanished down the corridor. Tooth rolled her eyes as she straightened out the nomination slips. Boys.

~~~0~~~

 **And that's all for a while.**

 **The mentions of the 'awesomeness of Bridge' is based on my own High school experiences. Never really got into the game that much myself, but there were people around me who did nothing but play Bridge. Orchestral practices produced better Bridge players than musicians, I think.**

 **Ciao till next chapter. And I wanted to end this at eight chapters. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.**


	8. Chapter 8

When Jack Frost Asks Part 8

~~~0~~~

Act 47: Where a Rather Awkward Conversation Occurred

Elsa felt like a new whole new person.

Shopping had been fun – no, shopping _with Anna_ had been fun. There was something ridiculous pleasant about browsing through fabrics and textiles of different shapes and shades with someone who had a keen eye for clothes. Anna certainly had a field day and her taste in fashion was a good deal more updated than Elsa's own. In the back of her mind, the blonde girl knew she had been essentially fallen prey to the tricks of the materialistic consumerism. But regardless, she had fun at the mall with Anna.

Fun? That word sounded so foreign in her mind, but for once, Elsa did not mind its presence.

After they had chosen out more blouses, dresses, pants and shoes than she would ever need for the rest of her high school life, Anna had suggested an icy desert parlor for them to quench their thirst and rest their tired feet – shopping was such a ghastly chore, after all.

So here she was now, grabbed in a ruffled knee-length skirt and a halter-neck blouse. Colorful bracelets lined her arms and boots with straps more than ever necessary were fit over her feet. She herself was balanced on a bar stool while waiting for Anna, who had gone to the counter to order. The evidence of their spend-thrift tendencies manifested themselves as a stack of paper bags all-lined up neatly on the table next to her. Elsa spent her waiting time peering into the bag and imagining the day that she would finally get to wear it, while alternating with thinking about what else she might have been doing if were still her old boring self. Probably doing more practice questions and pouring over books. Sometimes, she couldn't believe the things that she let herself miss.

Elsa leaned back against the glossy white table and gazed around at the ice-themed parlor, idly admiring the artificial icicles hanging from the ceilings and the paper snowflakes draped from above.

"Oh, whoa – um, I mean, hi," she heard a familiar voice break her quiet reverie. "Did not expect to see you here. Not that it's a problem, I mean – actually, it's pretty cool."

She raised her head to the boy, whose usually pale countenance had turned crimson. She froze on the spot, muscles stiffened as she took in his appearance. He wasn't wearing his usual blue hoodie, but rather a stiff shirt that, while accentuating his slim figure, made him look almost serious and grown-up. His wind-blown white locks had not changed much, but she noticed that it had been brushed back out of his face. It had been a while since they had both spoken towards to each other, and she wondered if the scars she had left on him still smarted.

Desiring to resume the image of normalcy, she shook off the chill that ran over her skin and smiled at him. "Thank you. Um-" she scrambled for a way to continue the conversation "-what are you doing here?"

"Oh, um, I've been studying here." He shrugged with an exaggerated nonchalance that told her that he wasn't actually that comfortable with sharing this face. "It has a nice atmosphere and they usually don't chase me out that much."

Her brows shot up in incredulity. "You … study?"

"Yeeaahhh." Jack scratched his head awkwardly, which was went she noticed the textbook and stationary he was holding under his arm. He noticed her eyeing them and subtly shifted it behind him, like as if he was actually ashamed of it. His gaze then shot up to the row of shopping bags sitting daintily next to her. "So, are you doing here?"

"Eating some kind of ice-cream with a strange name. Anna's buying it," Elsa answered, scrunching up her face as she tried to remember how to pronounce the word. "Sober, or Sorbi, or something."

"Sorbet," the boy corrected her with a chuckle. "Anna likes this place a lot. She was the one who introduced it to me. The mean stuff, though, is really the milkshakes." He raised his hand to scratch his scalp again, only to catch himself and decided to shove the free hand in his pocket.

They spent a while just looking at each other and pursing their lips, trying to work out what to say.

"She's here, actually. At the counter." The blonde girl nodded towards the deeper end of the shop. "Don't you want to see her?"

"Oh, erm," he gazed at where she directed, then glanced back at her, then back in the direction of the counter. Eventually, it was clear that he wasn't going to move.

The staring at each other continued.

Then the girl finally asked, "So, how are you?"

"Oh, um, I'm fine," was his reply. "A bit stressed with school work-" he jerked his chin at the textbooks he had hidden behind him, then remembered that he didn't want to draw too much attention to it "- erm, but not too overwhelming. You?"

"Never better." She leaned back against the table, stretching her arm out to admire the glittering bangles on her arm, then turned to him, saying in a half-rueful, half-amused tone, "I think I might be tempted to turn into a shopaholic. There's something oddly satisfying about matching pieces of garments together."

"Well, you wear it well," he told her with a small smile. Elsa couldn't help but feel that the bright blue eyes seem to an odd sort of longing in them, as if he was trying to tell her something that he could not say. She could see the conflict in his body language, with a part of him wanting to stay to talk with her and another part that wanted to flee.

A tugging at her conscience led her to shift herself off the bar stool, step towards him and say, "Look, I think that previously, might have been overtly-"

"Jack! Jack! Jack!" An enthusiastic squeal suddenly exploded as Anna flung her arms around the thin wiry boy, almost knocking him over in his surprised. The sheer delight that she expressed before him made Elsa almost ashamed at her near impassive greeting. _"You'rehere!Thisissoawesome!Hihihihihihh!"_

"Okay, hi, Anna." Jack winced as when the girl hugged him more tightly. "Um, need to breathe?"

"Oh, whoops." Freeing him from her grasp, her sister giggled while watching the lad straighten up his rumpled shirt. "Sorry, don't remember my own strength sometimes. Oh! Oh! Look, Jack!" She tugged him by the sleeve, beaming like the sun at Elsa. "We went shopping together! _ME AND ELSA!_ Just the two of us! Isn't it great?"

Elsa suppressed to urge to correct the error just at the same time as the boy murmured absentmindedly, "Elsa and me."

"Oh! And look at all the things that we bought!" Anna hadn't heard his input and dragged him over to the row of bags instead, gesturing wildly at them. "We went into every single store. It was fantastic!"

Jack couldn't help but laugh at her obvious delight about the whole situation. "I'm glad you guys enjoyed yourself." He glanced at Elsa for a moment, again as if he wanted to tell her something. But he turned to Anna instead and said, "Well, I think I'll go off now."

"Weren't you going to study?" Elsa asked just as Anna said, "But you just got here!"

"I, erm, I think I'll find another place. I don't want to distract you guys from your 'sister-sister time'." Stepping backwards towards the glass door and almost falling back as he reached for the handle. "See you girls at school."

"Bye!" Anna nearly shrieked, while Elsa gave just a small wave. The boy bade his farewell hastily before stumbling out of the ice-cream parlour, then hurrying off down the street, presumably back to school.

"Is it just me, or is he little-off today?" the younger girl asked the elder as she hopped onto one bar stools, frowning and tapping his chin.

"He probably just stressed from studying," was Elsa's offhand answer, which didn't reveal the slightest of her own thoughts. Picking up the small plastic menu that sat on the edge of the table, she changed the subject, "So, what did you order?"

"Oh, I got us a chocolate sorbet sundae with extra chocolate chips, hot fudge and guess what? Chocolate cake."

Elsa let her giggle as she climbed onto one of the swirling seats herself. "That sounds just wonderful, Anna."

~~~0~~~

Part 48: Where Our Hero was an Emotional Clump

"I hate myself."

"The feeling's mutual," Bunnymund said dryly, as he began to paint what must have been his tenth hard-boiled egg for the night. "That is, I hate you too, not that I hate myself."

"Can't you try to be a little sympathetic?" Jack's muffled voice emerged under his pillow. His roommate had no idea what he was trying to do – scream his frustrations in to the casing, or maybe smothering himself to death? – and honestly he didn't really care.

So the other boy answered, "No."

"I really hate you."

"The feeling's mutual on that, too. That is, that I hate you too, not that I hate myself."

There was a knock on the door, which was probably for Jack, since the white-haired boy was the more likely of the two of them to receive visitors at this time of the evening. But the scrawny young lad merely let out a rather vocal groan before curling himself up into a ball on the mattress, all while still crushing his pillow into his face. Bunnymund rolled his eyes, dropped the paint brush and went to unlock the door. He didn't even bother to greet the guest after opening it, just making a hundred-and-eighty turn back to his side of the room while announcing, "Your reindeer friend is here."

"What's wrong with him?" asked the blonde junior student who stepped in, eyeing the figure that was huddled up in his bed. In response, Jack merely grabbed his blanket and scooped it over his body, making an intelligible noise.

"What isn't?" murmured the Australian student, swerving his chair around before returning to his painting.

"Shut up, Bunny," a dampened snap came from the figure swathed in fabrics.

"Are you going to stay there all night?" Kristoff poked the hastily constructed fortress of fluffy solitude. "Because you promised that we're going to watch a documentary together. I've got one about Antarctica and global warming. It has pretty good reviews."

Bunnymund made an unmistakably loud and long-drawn groan.

"Not now, Kristoff," Jack mumbled from under the covers. "I'm too busy being emotional right now."

"Oh?" The big boy sat himself down by the bed. "What's it about this time?"

"If you're going to do some heart-to-heart nonsense, can you do it somewhere else?" the roommate complained. "I've had quite my fill of Jack's idiocy for tonight."

The white-haired boy then sat himself up abruptly, tearing the blanket of his head. "Bunny," Jack hissed, jabbing at finger in the direction of the athlete. "I will use the 'E' word if I have to."

Bunnymund raised his hands in mock surrender, but did retreat back to his side of the room and made no further comments.

Kristoff asked curiously, "What's the 'E' word?"

"Bunnymund's first name," Jack explained while rubbing the heel of his palm against an eye. "Alright, let's watch the documentary. I'm sick of studying anyway."

"Actually, you haven't studied tonight," came a snarky statement. "You didn't do _anything_ but mope around."

The white-haired boy whipped his head towards his roommate and glared. _"Bunny. E-word."_

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up." Bunnymund rolled his eyes, picking up his headphones and sliding them over his ears, muttering under breath before starting to paint another egg.

As Kristoff started setting up his laptop on top of the drawer, he glanced at the white-haired senior who was hugging his pillow and staring listlessly out of the window. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," the boy said at first, head down-turned. Then he sighed, running a hand through his snowy locks. "Well, okay, I ran into-"

"Too late!" Kristoff slammed his finger on the space bar, starting off the video on his screen. The room was filled with the opening credits of the documentary, playing some John William-esque tune and cutting Jack off definitely. "You already said no, so if you have anything else to say, you'll have to say it after the show."

Jack hunched himself forward, dropped his chin down on his palm and sighed. Kristoff merely sat himself down next to him cross-legged, shamelessly grabbed Jack's blanket and draped it around himself, earning a cross scowl from the other boy. Unfazed, the junior student then produced a lunchbox (probably hidden under that horrendously large reindeer sweater of his). He removed the lid with a 'pop' sound just as the commentator on the screen began to speak in a dramatic voice against the back drop of white whiteness.

"Want some?" The lunchbox was shoved in the older boy's face.

Jack gave him a pained look.

"Your loss." Kristoff drew the box back towards himself, removed one of the carrot sticks from the pile and started munching on it.

It was about five minute into the documentary when an Australian accent interrupted the thick Britishone of the commentator. "Hey, are those carrot sticks?"

"Yeah." Kristoff twisted himself around and leaned off the bed slightly to hold out the box to the roommate. "Want some?"

"Don't mind if I do." Bunnymund gladly accepted a few sticks from the box, placing one in his mouth almost immediately. "I didn't think there was anyone in this school who ate raw carrot sticks."

"Are you kidding?" The blonde boy crunched the vegetable hard under his teeth, not bothering to swallow before speaking again, "Raw carrot sticks are the best thing in the world next to reindeers, and that's saying a lot in my book."

"I know right?" The Australian student had left his desk and had gone to sit on his own bed opposite Jack's. When Kristoff offered more of the orange snack to him, he took some gratefully. "To me, they top the charts next to chocolate eggs. They're healthy, sweet, organic with a refreshingly clean taste and a neat work-out for the jaws. What?" The last bit was said in response to the gawk that he got from the other boy.

Slowly, Kristoff said, lifting up his box of carrots in a manner that was almost reverent, "  
I think we're going to the best of friends."

Bunnymund nodded, too, slowly and reverentially. "I think so too."

"I hate you guys," was the grouchy mumble that came from Jack.

"Feeling's mutual, Jack," both boys answered, with Kristoff giving a clap on the skinny's boy shoulder.

There was pause while the three of them turned their attentions back to the laptop, which was now showing a time-lapse view of the Antarctic during winter season.

Then Kristoff added, "Oh, just to clarify, that is, we hate you too, not that-"

" _I KNOW!"_

~~~0~~~

Act 49: Where Chat Applications Were Nightmare-Inducers in Disguise

" _-all for your nominations!"_ the cheery voice of the Prom committee chairwoman. " _We had quite a number of ties and it was tough to narrow it all done (No thanks to you idiots who kept spoiling the votes. Grrrrr….) For Prom Queen, the nominees are as follows: -"_

Like herself, her locker had also received a thorough makeover. All the books and files that she had once treasured were now stashed at the bottom to make way for the assortment of cosmetics that she had recently acquire as well as some of the clothes that she and Anna had purchased a few days prior. She had also decided for the heck of it to pick up art supplies, like a glue-gun she didn't need, a glitter spray she didn't need and a large pack of glossy paint markers that might actually come in handy for decorating birthday cards in the future. Why did she have them? Well, why not? You didn't need to have a rational reason to have expensive, unnecessary art tools that you were never going to use. (#SharPhilosophy)

" _-Rapunzel König,-"_

It was perhaps five minutes till her first class, but Elsa was in no hurry to get there. She no longer felt the all-consuming urge to be on time and to make a good impression. It was incredibly freeing to ignore all the disapproving glances, the dark looks and the pulls of discipline in her mind. She wanted to take her time, so take her time she did, leisurely capping her pink liner and picking up the Pink Nouveau lipstick from the shelf. Removing its lid, she began to trace the gloss over over her lips, using the mini-mirror she hung on the inside of her locker door.

" _-Astrid Hofferson,-"_

She heard a victorious "Yes!" echo down the hall. Briefly, her eyes, lined with a combination of purple and orange highlights, flickered away from the mirror and turned to look at the blonde athlete down the hall. The girl had her fist pumped victoriously up in the air while classmates surrounding her handed out their congratulations. Unable to help but smile at the obvious delight that her fellow student had, Elsa returned her attention to touching up her face.

" _-Merida Dunbroch,-"_

Elsa just had to chuckle at that _._ She could imagine that someone probably nominated her roommate just to make her mad, and she wouldn't be surprised if the girl was exploding into fumes right this second. It was a pity that Merida didn't share literature classes with her – it would be an interesting show to watch.

" _-and last, but certainly not the least, Elsa Arendelle!"_

The lipstick bullet snapped, leaving a huge pink smudge against the side of her mouth. With the way her jaw was hanging open, the appearance was even worse. Still, our heroine ignored this for the moment, turning up her to the speaker, booming out, _"Congratulations, ladies! Out of the four of you, one will be crowned as our Prom Queen just two weeks from now! The ballot booth would be open this afternoon and closes on Prom night itself. Now-"_ The tone took an exasperated turn "- _can Nicholas Piberious Wilde please get his butt to this PA office? I can't announce the Prom King nominations until he gives me the results slip. Thank you. Judy out."_

As she rubbed a tissue against her lip, Elsa couldn't help but be a little alarmed. Even after having sharply reversed her philosophy on high school life, she hadn't really changed her feelings towards Prom. Stand around in some uncomfortable dress in a room full of crazy teenagers and dance rave music? No thanks. She had even been prepared to sell off her ticket! But after all the things that had happened the last few days, she had forgotten about it and now she was nominated for Prom Queen. According to social obligation, that meant that she would probably have to attend.

Letting out a groan, Elsa set her broken lipstick back on the shelf while picking up another one of a slightly darker shade and began to trace her repaint her lips. She supposed that the considerate thing to do would be to inform the Prom committee president to remove her name from the nominations list, then find a way to get rid of her ticket.

While strolling down the corridor to her next class though, she felt a buzz in her pocket. Elsa removed it and discovered that she had received a notification from that new chatting app that Anna made her download the day before. Indeed, the message was from Anna herself – or should she say, messages.

 _7:58: ELSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_

 _7:58: ELSA! ELSA!_

 _7:58: OMG! U R NOMINATED!_

 _7:58: OMG! OMG! OMG!_

 _7:58:_ _ **Anna sent you a sticker ":O"**_

 _7:58:_ _ **Anna sent you a sticker ":O", but from a different sticker pack.**_

 _7:58:_ _ **Anna sent you a sticker ":O", but from a different sticker pack.**_

 _7:59:_ _ **Anna sent you a sticker ":("**_

 _7:59: Oops, typo._

 _7:59:_ _ **Anna sent you a sticker " -_-' "**_

 _7:59: HAHAHAHa. LoLz. Anyway…_

 _7:59:_ _ **Anna sent you a sticker ":D"**_

 _7:59: U R GONNA B PROM QUEEEEEN!_

 _7:59: U R GONA B LIKE QUEEN ELIZABETH!_

 _7:59: BUT YOUNGER_

 _7:59: AND NOT BRITISH_

 _8:00:_ _ **Anna sent you a GIF. The GIF shows a marriage of Prince William and Catherine Middleton, but you suppose that she actually meant to send you something to do with Queen Elizabeth's coronation.**_

 _8:00: U R ROYALTY!_

 _8:00: ALL HAIL QUEEN ELSA!_

 _8:00: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH_

And so forth.

Elsa had to admit that she was not quite so used to receiving so many messages so quickly. She supposed though Anna was only too happy to finally to have the permission to send her sister messages, and that delight combined with the announcement his morning must have given her a double-thumb spasm.

And it hit her.

Anna was _happy_. Anna loved all this, even though it wasn't that big of a deal. Just having her sister hang out with her, just having her sister let her text her, just having her sister – not herself even! - get nominated for Prom Queen filled her with such delight.

Anna was most certainly going for Prom – there was no reason why she wasn't, if she was still Jack's date _(Of course she was still Jack's date. Why wouldn't she still be Jack's date?)._ It would make her happier if her elder sister, who apparently she cared so much about, was going too, right?

Elsa sighed as she slumped herself down into the rickety chair, tempted to smash her freshly powdered face down into the table. She really, really didn't want to go for some bloated party with lots of people and weird food, but if it made Anna happy…

Part of her brain was screaming for her not to, but she had gotten quite used to ignoring that part for the last few days. She typed in her phone, _"Yeah. Haha. Would you like to help me pick out a dress?"_

After she hit the send button, she almost threw her phone away when a gazillion messages started to bombard her inbox.

~~~0~~~

Act 50: Where Our Hero Contemplated Serious Philosophical Questions

In all his years of school, Jack was actually unfamiliar with the sensation of being shoved up against his own locker while being simultaneously lifted off the ground. Well, wasn't life all about new experiences?

"Look, I don't care if you beat me at class, or in pranking, or even the number of followers on Instagram, -"

 _Side-burns._ Now, don't get me wrong. A good of set of sideburns could make a fella as distinguished as a war memorial, but which kid in the 21st Century would every pick to have sideburns? What was wrong with this guy? Yeah, he pulled them off well, but _still!?_

"- and you can keep Anna for as long as you like, but _you will not_ – I repeat – _you will not_ get in the way of me becoming Prom King."

Jack blinked, brought out of his reverie _(sideburns? WHY?)_. "What? That's it?"

Hans appeared rather displeased with attitude. "What do you mean _'that's it'_?"

 _(Fashion statement? Cosplaying? Why sideburns?)_ "Is this all this is about? I thought it'd be more serious." He glanced down at his feet, which were still dangling up in the air. "As much as I like flying, can you put me down now?"

Hans raised a brow incredulously at him.

"What? Isn't your hand getting tired by now?"

"Did you hear what I just said?" the other student senior almost sputtered.

"Yeah, I did, but-" Jack shrugged _(POSSIBLE ALIEN INVASION? COMING APOCALYPSE? SIDE-BURNS AS A FORM OF SELF-DEFENSE? WHY?)_ "-it didn't strike me as very important."

The redhead's lips curled downwards even more and it seemed like he was going to punch to him, but then a deep voice rang out, "Hey!"

Out of the blue, Kristoff had arrived to the scene and he towered half-a-head over Hans. Narrowing his brows at the senior student and folding his arms, he growled, "You better put my friend down, or you might find yourself unexpectedly defenestrated."

Jack could feel the other boy flinch under the glare, though Hans kept his face mostly impassive. Releasing the white-haired boy with a careless flick of his wrist, he murmured before stealing away, "You better step down from the nominations, Frost."

"Urgh." Jack peered down at his rumple shirt as he hastily straightened it out. "People have no respect for the amount of time I spend ironing this."

"Well, your fault for wearing clothes that actually need ironing," remarked Kristoff, watching the departure of his ex-roommate with a satisfied huff. "And congratulations, you've unlocked another badge on the nerd achievements list – getting shoved against your own locker."

"I'm not a nerd, Kristoff," Jack said dismissively, while pulling open his locker and reaching for his belonging.

"Really? And that isn't a stack of chemistry revision notes that you're going to study at the library."

"I'm-" Jack glanced down at the file that he had in his arms "-um, hmmmm…"

"There's nothing wrong with being a nerd – it's actually highly encouraged behaviour. You realise that, don't you?"

"I don't know." The boy pulled a face while kicking the locker shut. "I just never saw myself doing anything that's 'highly encouraged'." He couldn't help but feel a little uneasy about the notion.

"Hey, it's good that you actually care about your grades. Considering your finals aren't that far off from now, you should actually care."

"Don't remind me," Jack groaned, slapping the file against his face. "I actually have to do some stupid peer tutoring thing so that my report card doesn't make me look like I'm a complete delinquent."

"Peer-tutoring? You?" Kristoff exploded into peals of laughter. " _Hahahahaha_ – sorry, but that's so – _hahahaahaha_."

The white-haired boy scowled at him. "You and Bunnymund are disgustingly alike."

He felt a buzz on the side of his hip, so he slipped the file under his arm, freeing a hand to remove the phone from his pocket. He read the ID of the sender and found that it belonged to the guidance counsellor, Sandy. The man had told him that he would send him the contact of his tutee counterpart when they had connected to him to one. Apparently that day had arrived sooner than he had expected.

He tapped the screen to read the message, then – "Seriously?"

"What?" Kristoff asked, surprised to find how agitated his companion had suddenly become.

Jack handed the phone to him, then proceeded to smack the file against his face, screaming to himself, "Why? Why? WHY?"

Kristoff read the message in silence, then looked at his miserable friend. "So this is the person you have to tutor?"

Jack nodded, now dumbstruck and on the verge of tears.

Reading the name on the screen, Kristoff gave the boy a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Now I really feel sorry for you."

~~~0~~~  
Act 51: Where New Faces were made to Replace the Old

She had never seen so few numbers on the pages before, or such disapproving comments.

" _Shallow exploration. Excessive spelling errors. Punctuation horrendous. Very disappointing."_

" _Lots of careless mistakes. Simple questions wrong because of handwriting. Please be more conscientious."_

" _Did not read questions properly. We covered this in class. Please pay more attention and seek help when needed."_

It was a good thing that Elsa had received these after she was well-past caring about her grades, or she would be a good deal more upset about this. She did note, however, that a good deal of these test papers were done before she had gone through her so-called 'transformation'. It just proved that her old self wasn't that infallible, after all.

"Ms. Arendelle, a word?" The Math Tutor had called her after the bell rang and most of the students had shuffled their way out of the classroom. Elsa groaned, spun on the high-heel of her new white-leather boots and headed to the teacher's table.

Now, Elsa didn't dislike Miss Tiana. If anything, Elsa admired the woman tremendously. The math tutor was possibly the most frugal, practical and hardworking woman in the entire school, and she was not afraid of being labelled 'feminist', 'workaholic', 'kill-joy' and the like. Those who knew her knew that she hated being in the education sector and only did her job because she was saving up set up a restaurant of her own. Even though she was stuck in a job she hated, Miss Tiana still took it very seriously and did with an attitude of excellence and efficiency.

It was no surprise Old Elsa admired all this – what, with the _"work-real-hard-each-and-every-day, good-things-sure-to-come-my-way"_ thinking – but New Elsa was starting wonder if the Math tutor was going to be one of those people who died rich but alone.

"I don't think there's really a nice way for me to put this," the woman told her firmly, her Southern accent cropping up about every six syllable. "But your grades have dropped – and quite drastically. Now, I know it's just a practice paper but this-" she waved her pen at Elsa's red-smudged test-sheet "-is only testing a quarter of the topics coming out in the finals. I find that quite worrying."

"Right," Elsa answered, but inwardly she was thinking about Prom. What kind of dress should she wear? Long sleeves or short? Knee-length or tea-length? What about colour? Well, she only wanted either blue or white.

"Is there something going on?" The woman clasped her hands together, giving her a sidelong glance. "Some kind of trouble at home or any issues that you're dealing with?" She gave her attire a thorough look through. "Is it to do with the makeover?"

Elsa felt a surge of annoyance run through her system. She never did like people prying into her affairs. "I can manage it, Miss Tiana."

"Well, I can respect that, I suppose," the woman said dubiously. "But you're not doing as well as you usually do. I guess I'm going to take it that you're not very good at this set of topics." It was then that Elsa noticed that the tutor had pulled up in front of her a list of some kind with names written all over it. "Fortunately, there are quite a number of students in this cohort who have done well for the same paper and are offering to tutor their peers." It took a while Elsa to realize where this was going, and by the time she did, it was too late. "I'm going to sign you up for the programme."

"What?" Her jaw almost hit the ground.

"I think it would be the best way for you to learn," Miss Tiana went on smoothly, as if she had not spoken. "You're usually pay attention in class and you're a smart girl, so whatever went wrong can't be solved by sticking to old methods. Maybe you might be able to learn a thing or two from your fellow students."

"But-but-" she had to admit that just the notion of it stung. She had been one of top students of the cohort before, and now she needed tutoring? Like those loafers and near-dropout kids? The _'I-don't-care-what-they're-going-to-say-never-bothered-me-anyway'_ part of her was not very good as suppressing the outrage she overflowing inside of her.

"That's the end of the discussion." Miss Tiana stood up, scooped out her materials and began to make her way out of the classroom. "Oh, and I love the boots," she called as she disappeared around the door, leaving the blonde girl standing stricken still with a gaping 'O' for her mouth.

~~~0~~~

 **Hey there folks! Please read the stuff below. You might find it relevant.**

 **Well, that's a bunch of random Disney cameos. Tiana is from Princess and the Frog, if there's any confusion. Nicholas P. Wilde (and Judy) should be easy to identify.**

 **Oh, guess who watched Moana? It was quite a satisfying watch (better than Big Hero 6, around the same level as Tangled), and the soundtrack is really, really catchy. The character might make a cameo if I need anyone else to throw into this mess of a story.**

 **Every time you think I might do some character development, I end up…not doing it.**

 **I was supposed to end this story on the eighth chapter, but as you obviously can tell, I'm not actually going to. C'mon! It's like taking forever to actually get to Prom itself! What the heck am I doing? I'm now aiming to end this by the twelfth chapter.**

 **Hopefully I'll get there, but I rather doubt it. I have a tendency to go completely whacked and start new subplot. Like the 'main ship being paired-up together for school project/peer-tutoring' trope that has been done to death. Except, you know, that I refuse to put the titular couple as the pair of said trope.**

 **No, I think I'll ruin this cliché.**

 **MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.**

 **~~~0~~~~**

Act 52: Where Surprises Splashed Everywhere

He was planning to spend the rest of his evening in peaceful self-study, but no, he had to go tutor one of his fellow students. The main question, however, he was asking the ceiling, was why it had to be _this_ particular student.

He had texted the guidance counsellor, pleading for a swap this tutee for anyone else – _anyone_ else. But Sandy had rebuked him back for being fussy and told him that it would be a character building.

 _Hah!_ Character building. Jack already felt like ripping out his own throat.

Sandy had given him the tutee's contact and he had sent the messages – albeit with clenched teeth – to the number. But there had been no reply for the last four hours and the boy had been itching to get this whole tutoring started. The faster it started, the faster it could end after all.

After dragging his feet across the corridor of dorm room doors, he reached the door with the correct number. He knew it, because he had been there before at rather inappropriate hours.

Rapping his knuckles against the wooden surface, he waited.

He heard some shuffling from the inside, maybe the closing of some drawers, then the clicking sound as the door was unlocked and his least favourite redhead in the world appeared at the door.

Jack went straight to the point. "Did you get my messages?"

"I don't read messages from unknown numbers," was the other's boy short reply.

"But you knew it was from me."

"I guessed as much."

"So do you know what's in the messages?"

Hans shrugged.

Jack sighed, then informed him with much reluctance, "Apparently, your grades suck. Mine don't. I'm your peer tutor."

"What?"

"Yep."

For a moment, the redheaded boy seemed stunned, almost turning pale. Then, he said in a sickly voice, "Um, could you give me a moment?"

Jack nodded to show that he conceded to the request, and Hans disappeared, his door falling back over the opening. The snow-haired boy waiting on the corridor sighed again, tapping his foot against the ground. Cocking his head towards the door, he realized that he heard the shuffling noise coming from the inside of the room again. He scrunched up his face in bewilderment.

And suddenly, the door opened and Jack found himself slapped with something gooey, wet and sticky. He gasped in shock, hurriedly combing the liquid out of his eyes and discovered that he had been abruptly coated head to toe in green acrylic paint.

Hans, tossing the stained bucket at his rival's feet with a satisfied clunk, told him with great vindictiveness, "Not gonna happen."

The door was then slammed shut in his face, leaving Jack alone, dripping green and feeling very icky.

Then, our hero, who was starting at this point to look a bit like a moving tree, yelled out, "Did you seriously keep a _bucket of paint_ in your room _all this time_ , just waiting for me to come to your door so that you can throw it at me?"

There was silence at first, then through the door – "Yep."

Jack then frowned, making the paint under his nose run down the side of his lips and drip off his chin. "You're crazy."

"'Coz I am." He could the redhead chuckling almost maniacally on the other side of the door. "I _LOVE_ crazy!"

The white-haired – or perhaps more appropriately, green-haired – boy shuddered in the direction of the door while trying to brush off the paint dripping of his fringe. Anna certainly dodged the bullet with this guy.

He was about to walk away and get himself cleaned up when any idea occurred to him. Lifting paint-soaked hand, he stepped in front of the dorm door and wrote _'#WETWESTERGAAD'_

When he took a step back, he beamed admiringly at his green handiwork.

And then blob of paint started rolling down his forehead, toward the tip of his eyelid. Okay, okay, time to go.

And leave to wash up, our hero did, but anyone else who passed Hans' door the next door couldn't help but take a photo of it and upload it to their favourite social media site.

Ah, high school life. Don't you just love it?

Oh, later Bunnymund did snap a picture of Jack's green-soaked appearance and was about to upload it with the hashtag 'leprechaun', but then Jack used to the 'E' word and all was right again.

~~~0~~~

 **AND that's the real end of chapter folks. MUAHAHAHAHA. Did I get you? Eh? Eh?**

 **No, I didn't. Oh. Well. Hmm. Just wait till you see who's tutoring Elsa.**

 **Guest Mailbox:**

 **LoyalReader (Oct 26): I'm not really ending this story this chapter. Its' impossible. I hope too that Elsa and Anna can finally mend their relationship forever – and it is getting better, sure, but there are things the two of them still need to clear up.**

 **Polar Panda (Oct 27): I know, right? Isn't it a great idea? We should all have golden magic shag carpets! Now I know what I want for Christmas.**

 **See you around folks. And have a lovely day.**


	9. Chapter 9

Act 53: Where Mathematics continued to the Bane of High-schoolers with Insufficient Common Sense

She was doing her nails in the canteen when she was interrupted by the thump of books on the table. The sound was unmistakable, because the canteen was mostly quiet now, since it wasn't a meal hour.

" _Mathematics_ ," a familiar voice drew out smoothly while a shadowed figure sat himself next to her, " _is the handwriting on the human consciousness of the very spirit of life its_ _elf._ "

There was an expectant silence that followed, to which she just rolled her eyes and answered, "Claude Brandon, isn't it?"

She could hear him smiling though her eyes were focused on the nail of her fourth finger, which she was colouring with great meticulous in the shade of shimmering white like ice. "Yes, indeed."

"Well, Morris Kline on the other hand said that _'mathematics is a body of knowledge, but it contains no truths.'_ " Elsa carefully flicked her wrist, guiding the tiny brush over the nail. After removing it, she pulled the nail towards her face and examined it, before dipping the brush back into the bottle.

Seeing that he wasn't about to remove himself anytime soon, she told him, "If you want a place to study, you should go somewhere else. I'm supposed to meet my tutor here. My _peer_ tutor." She scrunched up her face as she spoked. "I apparently need one now, because my grades leave much to be desired."

When he didn't move, she lifted her head towards him. Pitch, in return, gave her a wry smile before pushing the books towards her.

It suddenly dawned on her. Her face clearly said so. "You're kidding."

He didn't answer, merely turning open one the books and saying, "We should start with calculus. According to your results, you're not very good at it."

"There is no way you'd volunteer to tutor fellow students," Elsa declared , feeling that this situation was all too surreal.

"Why wouldn't I?" Pitch made show of being hurt, though the taunting tinge in his tone told her that he wasn't really. "I-" he gestured towards himself "-am after all one of the brightest students in this school. It would be unfair if not to share my gifts with my fellow schoolmates."

Elsa was, of course, unbelieving. "And somehow you coincidentally ended up being assigned to _me_." Her brow shot up as she began painting her pinky nail. "Tad obvious, don't you think?"

"A happy chance," he answered with shameless, smug grin.

She rolled her eyes at him, quite exasperated. "If this is some scheme to get me to go out with you, it's still not going to work." She studied the freshly painted nail for a moment, then blew against it.

Pitch sighed, shaking his head sadly. "You think so little of me, my dearest Elsa."

"Don't 'dearest' me," the blonde girl hissed at him, re-dipping the brush as she prepared to start on her other hand. "You know I hate it."

"Yes, the way you hate all things that are cloying, condescending and demeaning of a strong, independent woman," he murmured quietly, but loud enough for her to hear. "And yet here you are, dressed like the front cover of a teen magazine and painting your nails like the brainless antagonist of a chick-flick."

She paused, before stiffly dropping the brush and capping the bottle with an audible 'click'. She narrowed her eyes at him.

He was however impervious to her deadly glare, merely gazing at her with a mixture of amusement and patronising sympathy.

She didn't really have a clever response to shoot back at him, so she unscrewed the bottle cap and began painting her other hand. Of course, he tried to get her attention again with another snide remark, but she just gave him a cold shoulder.

Because apparently, that's all she knew how to do now.

~~~0~~~

Act 54: Where Our Hero Learned Rather Disturbing Stuff

It was a beautiful day. The birds were singing. The students were studying. Our hero was rapping his fist against one of the dorm doors and praying that his knuckles won't starting bleed.

"HANS!" He yelled from the outside. The _'#wetwestergaard'_ paint stain was still there and was most certainly the laughing stock of the school, but this did not mean that that Jack was any closer to fulfilling his goal.

"Go away, Frost!" was the reply he heard through the door. "Why are you still here?"

"Because-" his hand was really getting tired "-I need something to fix my record!"

"Your record?" Hans actually sounded puzzled. "Record of what?"

Jack groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "My behavioural record."

"Your ... behavioural record? What on Earth is that?"

"You know," the boy fumbled for the words reluctantly, "that thingy at the end of your report card that tells colleges that you want to apply to whether you've been naughty and nice."

"It's at the end of the report card?" Though the voice was slightly muffled through the wood of the door, the surprise in Hans' voice was evident. "I thought they mail it through a separate document."

"Well, I suppose that's possible too," Jack admitted, shrugging though the other boy couldn't actually see it – you know, since the flippin' door was still closed!

"It makes a lot more sense that way, don't you think?" Hans reasoned out. "I mean, the colleges will probably interview us during the application processes and they'll want to hear the school's opinion of us without our knowledge, so we shouldn't actually be allowed to see the record."

Jack absorbed all this while running a hand through his hair, and then realised that actually this had nothing to do with what he was currently trying to do. Ramming his fist against the door again, he shouted, "HANS, LET ME TUTOR YOU!"

"NO!"

"I'LL GIVE YOU COOKIES!"

"I DON'T LIKE COOKIES!"

"SANDWICHES, THEN!"

"I DON'T LIKE SANDWICHES!"

"How did you even survive two minutes with Anna?" Jack muttered under his breath, before raising his voice in tandem with his slamming fist, "WELL, WHAT ABOUT CUPCAKES!"

The door swung opened so unexpectedly that he almost fell over. The redhead eyed him with an impassive expression, as if accessing the reliability of the offer.

Then, he waved him into the room. "Come in, and take off those shoes." He glared at Jack's sneakers as if their very presence offended him. "Those are so last season."

Now, our hero had been into the enemy base before. Indeed, if you recall Act 25-26 (no, you do not recall. It's been ages ago. You probably don't remember it anyway), when the enemy base was partially inhabited by a certain blonde, reindeer-hugger, Jack had managed to sneak into the room long enough to dump a mountain of ice cubes onto his sideburn-marked rival's bed. At that point of time, he had not paused to admire the scenery, and that combined with the darkness of the midnight activities meant that he had never gotten a good look at the place. Now, with that Kristoff had been forcibly evacuated, there had been less reason to visit this haunt.

So admittedly, he was a tad surprised to find the entire room was covered with maps, handwritten documents, mind-maps and assorted small accompanying notes.

Jack's mouth fell open and he remarked, with a mix of awe and bewilderment – mostly bewilderment, "…O-kay."

"I'd ask you to sit," Hans said, strolling to the end of his dorm room, only stopping to adjust one of the boards on the wall. "But I actually want you to get out ASAP, so, please _don't_ sit."

It was pinned with a looped strings, random photos and a big title, ' _MACHINES RISING, WATER COOLERS, ARMAGEDDON?'_ There was a yellow stick-it note pinned to it that also stated, _"Get back to this after calculating the possibility of the asteroid-based annihilation of America and parts of Canada, and don't forget to buy detergent. Ran out last week."_

"What are you?" Jack murmured with a slack-jawed expression, beginning to study the mind-maps hung at his eye-level. 'RED-PAINTED WALLS AS A FORM TORTURE'. "Some kind of conspiracy Sherlock?"

"No," Hans scoffed, looking at him as if he had suggested that he had wanted to dance in cogs on top of a glockenspiel. "The word 'conspiracy' implies that it's an element of scandal and possibly falsehood. I-" he puffed himself up with shameless arrogance "-am creator, tester and refiner of accurate hypothesises."

Jack chewed on his lip. "So…you're a scientist."

"Yes."

"Of conspiracies."

"No." Hans scowled. "I told you not to call them conspiracies."

"Then what? Weird theories? Quirky Mysteries?-" lifting up a document detailing the connection between World War II, the Assassination of the Romanovs and the creation of Mineral Water "-Evidence that you need serious help?"

Hans rolled his eyes and tore his hand away from the sheet. "I don't expect your puny mind to understand the extent of my genius, Frost-"

"-says the guy who got consecutive 'Es' for every topic," Jack put in matter-of-factly.

"-so please keep my hands off my property as long as you're here," the boy finished, ignoring Jack's jibe. He sat himself down on a rolleable chair with a rather large rectangular-shaped backing, which also happened to be right in front of shuttered windows that were covered by the blinds. The dimmed lights and the exaggerated silhouettes made it look as if they had been pulled out a black-and-white noir film. Hans reclined his into the chair then poured himself a cup of –

"-tea? What the heck are you?" Jack was aghast as he observed the redhead piping hot reddish liquid pouring from a porcelain teapot to its matching cup. "A British villain?"

Hans looked at him as if he suggested that he was growing beansprouts in his hair. "I'm Danish, you idiot."

Jack was unconvinced, glancing suspiciously around the room. "Do you have a cat somewhere in this room? Are you going to pick it up and stroke its fur slowly in a menacing manner?"

"No and also…no." The redhead boy was eyeing him oddly, picking up the teacup and sipping. "Anyway, we have something to discuss, don't we? The sooner we have over, the sooner I can throw you out and forget I ever saw your face."

"You wish." Jack made a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. "You're going to see me until your 'Es' start turning into 'Bs'."

"Oh, please." The redhead let out a low chuckle, setting his tea cup down with a scornful 'clink' …on a saucer. (Because typical teenagers kept porcelain teacups, teapots and saucers in their dorm rooms. Right…) "I don't have time for this kind of nonsense."

"By _'nonsense'_ , you realise that you're referring to your grades, rights?" Jack pointed out, pulling a face. "And you do realise that your grades do play quite a significant role in determining your future?"

"My future?" Hans barked at that so sharply that the white-haired boy actually jumped back, then began to mentally question himself for reacting to something that wasn't really worth reacting at. Well, it didn't help that the redheaded boy with sideburns was sniggering to himself like someone with a unshared joke.

Finally, the seated boy got over himself (a little) and finally spoke. "I-" he gestured to himself grandly "-already have my future all planned out. I don't need lowly, unimportant things like ' _grades'_." Hans spat the word out as if it were poison.

"What plan?" As the question left his lips, Jack wondered if it was better not to know.

A wide smile spread across Hans' face, as if he had been waiting for someone to ask it.

"AH! I've been waiting for someone to ask that question."

Undoubtedly, he had been dying to do an entire monologue about his fantastic plan to secure his rich prosperous future.

"I've been dying out to do an entire monologue about my fantastic to secure my rich, prosperous future."

Oh, erm, powerful. Rich, prosperous, POWERFUL future.

"Rich, prosperous, powerful futu-" flapping his hands irritated towards the ceiling "-why am I just repeating everything the narrator has already said? Excuse me?"

Oh. Yeah. Let's try not to do that again.

"Thank you." Hans shot one last glare to the ceiling as a warning, before lowering his gaze to Jack, who staring at him strangely. "What?"

Considering him for a long moment, the white-haired boy said slowly, "I think you really need help."

"And I don't care about your opinion," was the red-haired boy's refute, swinging his chair around slightly to reach for the string under his window, turning the blinds closed. "Now, shut up, Frost. I'm going to monologue about my grand plan for my future."

A remote control appeared in his hand, and he pointed it towards the ceiling and _'poof!_ ' A lighted circle appeared on the window blinds, before morphing into a rectangular box.

"See? I've even got slides."

Gawking behind him at the projector hooked up to the ceiling, Jack could barely keep himself thinking coherently. "Why do you have a projector in your room?"

"After graduation, I'll be leaving to study at a prestigious, elite university in Denmark," Hans continued on, paying no mind to Jack's outburst. When he did glance the other boy's way, he mistook the reason behind it. "It's a family tradition. All Westergaard boys do their tertiary education there. I don't really get to pick." He hit the button on his remote, making it show a slide show the school grounds. Despite how completely confounded he was with the whole display, Jack had to admit that castle setting and the large fields made the place look rather inviting.

"The school fees are disgusting exorbitant, of course," Hans informed him in a sardonic tone, "so only the richest of the rich there to go there. It's so frightfully exclusive to the point it makes me want to throw up at the level of snobbery exhibited."

The irony did not escape Jack. "You?"

" _Please_." The redhead appeared rather offended. "I wouldn't actually throw up. I'm in complete control of my own pyloric sphincter."

He returned to stabbing buttons on the remote, fast-forwarding through the endless thread of slides that elaborated on the school's mission, culture and so forth, before finally stopping at one that showed a table.

"One of the years of the curriculum involves an overseas exchange program at a destiny of one's choice to study at a sister college in the same continent."

 _Click._ Next Slide. List of Colleges, of which Jack could barely pronounce most of them. "I will be choosing the St. Anne College in Holland."

 _Click._ Next Slide. "This also happens to also be the school where the crown princess of the Netherlands is currently studying a double major of Politics and Economics. Working backwards-"

 _Click._ Next Slide. "-I'll have to be doing at least one of those majors to be in the same class." Hans rested his chin on the head of his controller, pondering gravely over the matter, then concluded with a shrug, "I suppose Politics would be better. I heard Economics has quite a bit of mathematics in it – not one of my stronger points."

"Your report card agrees with that," added our hero, not that he was noticed.

Hans pointed the remote at the projector and the screen flickered to the next slide which had a timeline. "So we'll meet in within three days of my arrival to the country and begin courtship immediately, and after two weeks we would become official. Within a year, we'll be married. Well,-" he swivelled his chair around slightly to squint at the screen, lip curled in distaste "I suppose her parents might have issue with such early nuptials, considering her age, so elopement's on KIV. Not really desirable though, since that might lead to her getting disinherited, which would ruin everything." He pursed his lips as he considered this thought. "I'd hate to file a divorce before thirty."

"Sorry. I kind of lost it 'married'," Jack admitted, eyes glazing over a little. "Who's this that you're marrying again?"

"The Crown Princess of Netherlands." Hans was quite peeved at having to clarify himself. "I said it just now."

Jack just stared down at him.

Unperturbed, Hans asked, "What?"

The boy ran his hand through his white locks on his scalp, drawing himself back slightly like a canary drawing itself away from the kitten that he realised the latter was a predator.

"Your grand plan to secure your future," Jack said slowly, unable to believe that the words were coming out of his mouth, "is to marry an European princess."

"Well, that's just the start," the other boy stated in a business-like manner. "I've still got much more, like-" counting off his fingers "-garner a media following, start an acting-slash-modelling career, gain prominence in intellectual and political syndicates, start several shell companies and use them to carry out discreet investments through off-shore accounts, accumulate vast, ill-gotten wealth, possibly enter the political sphere – though I might have to divorce the wife by then." He tapped his fingers together as he thought. "Hopefully we'll have the required 2.5 adorable and media-showered heirs of the Dutch throne by then, with myself hopefully being in the respectable forties without too embarrassing a midlife crisis."

To his unwanted visitor, who was too flabbergasted to put in words the exclamation marks ringing in his head, Hans added, "As you can tell, I've a lot to prepare for, so I have no time for silly things like science and history."

"Are you serious?" Jack finally managed to bring himself to gasp out.

The redhead shot him a withering look. "Don't I look serious?"

"This is definitely going off the deep end," the boy burst out, both horrified and disturbed. "How on earth is this a secure plan for your life? What happens if the Dutch princess doesn't like you? Or she's already attached? Or she dies before you guys get together?"

"I already have contingency plans for that," was the ready answer, followed by more clicking and more slides. "There are plenty of available princesses, and if they're unattainable, I'll settle for a Duchess, Viscountess, or any appropriate titled females with suitable amounts of wealth. If there aren't any, I suppose I'll settle for a socialite daughter of CEOs of multinational corportations."

"That's not the point!" Jack waved his arms fervidly, almost stamping his foot. "The point is your plan is _ridiculous_!"

Hans narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I said, it's RIDICULOUS and it's NOT GOING TO WORK!" Jack punctuated his words by shaking a clenched fist in the air.

"Well, like I said earlier," Hans answered coolly, folding his arms, "I don't care about your opinion."

"Use your common sense!" Jack wanted to shake the fellow, and there was very little that was holding him back, to be honest. "What are the chances _you_ meeting, getting along with and marrying a royal? Who do you think you?" His gestures got wilder as his volume got louder. "Modern _Cinderella_? Have you been on some kind of RomCom marathon or something?"

"For your information, I know full well the extent of my attractiveness," Hans rebutted hotly, though the other boy could see that he was trying to hold back his anger, "and unlike you, I actually know how to use it to get what I want."

"Well, maybe that's because I have a functioning moral compass!" Jack was practically hollering at him. "What on Earth is wrong with you?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong!" the redhead shouted back, throwing himself to his feet. "I know what I want, and I'm willing to go the full extent to get it. Not like you." He snorted, letting out a malicious snicker. "You don't even have the guts to tell a girl that you'd rather be snogging her sister."

"' _Snogging'_ " the white-haired boy growled testily, _"_ is not a real word!"

"Yes, it is! I checked."

"Just because you found a Google definition of something does not make it a real word!"

"Well, how about these words, hmm?" Hans made an exaggerated show of thinking. "Loser, wuss, all round good-for-nothing, world-is-so-much-better-without-you decrepit piece of junk."

"Okay. I _really, really_ want to punch you right now," came the teeth-clenched threat from the other boy, was already balling up his hands into fists.

"Go ahead," Hans beckoned him with a cocky grin. "Let's get another mark on that filthy record, hey?"

Despite the tauntings from his seriously messed-up rival, Jack did regain his self-control and lowered his arms, letting out a deep exhale as he did. Giving the other boy a disgusted look, he said, perhaps as a last attempt to ravage matters, "You know, you'll need at least sort-of average-ish scores on your card to get into the college."

"I'll deal with that eventually," was the careless answer. "For now, I actually have more important things to do – like learn how to speak Dutch." Plopping himself back into the swivel chair, Hans waved him away. "So, get out before I dump another bucket of paint on you."

Jack glanced around, wondering how on Earth this cluttered dump could hold a bucket of paint in it. Dismissing this thought, he then protested, "But I need to tutor you! I need to prove that I'm trying to do good."

"Well, just lie about it then." Hans clearly was not interested in helping him at all. "Do I have to tell you everything?"

"The teachers are not idiots," Jack hissed in rebuttal. "If your work in class doesn't improve, there's no way they'll believe me."

"Hmm." The redhead actually seemed contemplate this matter. Rising off his chair, he walked over to his desk and pushed aside all the maps and files to retrieve a stack of books and worksheets. Scooping them up into a pile, he slipped them inside a bag which had even more worksheets.

He then handed the bag to Jack, who stared down at it with perplexity. "What's this?" 

"All my homework – overdue ones and impending deadline one." Hans smiled a bit too brightly at him while leading him forcefully to the door. "If you want my performance in the academics to improve so much then – well,-" he shrugged as he pushed the white-haired boy out into the corridor "-you've got to take it into your own hands. _Dank je!_ "

The door slammed in front of his face, making Jack flinched back at its force.

Then the door opened slightly, with Hans peering down at some book, which was apparently an English-Dutch dictionary. "Sorry, that just now meant 'thank you'. What I meant was-" he traced a finger down the page "- _ga weg_. So-" closing the book dramatically "- _ga weg_!" And he slammed door once again.

Then he opened it briefly. "Oh, and I like butterscotch cupcakes." Then it was shut once more.

Jack was left standing outside, still a little puzzled as to why he had been unexpectedly thrust into the care of his most detested rival's belongings.

Then, the comprehension of the past events suddenly dawned on him and he understood what exactly Hans had been telling him all along.

Shouting – "If you think that I'm going to help you do your homework, you're sorely mistaken! You're crazy!"

There was no reply, not even after a minute or two of waiting. It was clear that Hans was no longer going to entertain him.

"Well, this is just ridiculous," Jack muttered to himself, staring hatefully down at the bag of homework. Then he let out a slight shudder. "Well, almost as ridiculous as planning to marry the Dutch crown princess."

He tugged the bag along, feeling a mixture of relief from finally leaving the peculiar dorm room and confusion about what exactly he should do next.

What a loser.

~~~0~~~

Act 55: Where the Author Explained why She Called Our Hero a Loser

At first, Jack just dropped the stack of homework next to his bed and forgot about it while penning an extremely difficult essay on why he felt that global warming should be the priority of their country (because what happens if Antartica disappeared? There'd be horrible!).

Then Kristoff came over to the room and they (together with Bunnymund, because now that the reindeer-obsessed anti-socialite and the egg-painting athlete were Carrot-munching Bros (CMBs for short), Bunnymund had joined the social circle) talked about the latest hockey match and how their school's team really sucked, then about how the Prom committee was holding audition for performers to perform on Prom Night and Kristoff was thinking of performing – well, maybe, sort-of, hmm, not sure – and then they started talking about whales and sharks and whether dolphins were fish or mammals, because none of them could remember grade 3 science anymore, and Kristoff asked them if they wanted to form a band (Jack said, "Eh, nah." Then Bunnymund said, "Hell, no!" Then Jack said, "Why not? I thought you're the King of Rock." And then Bunnymund glared at him, and Kristoff didn't get it.)

Then after talking a lot, Kristoff went back to his own dorm room, Bunnymund went back to egg-painting and Jack finished his homework for the night. Then at a surprisingly earlier time of 1 am, both of them decided to call it a night (or day, since it was morning) and go to sleep.

After snoozing for an uncomfortable two hours, Jack woke up, sweating and panting as if he had run a marathon. He glanced at his roommate's bed and was a little annoyed to find that the other boy was peacefully asleep.

The white-haired lad sat himself up by the bedside, combed his hair back as he tried to shrug off the unpleasant nightmare, and found that by his foot sat the bag of homework that didn't belong to him. Though it was a non-sentient object, Jack couldn't help but feel as if the bag was staring at him chidingly.

A pool of unease clogged up his chest for the rest of the night, and he found that, after returning to Slumberland, that his dreams were full deadlines, numbers and flying paper sheets with little mouths that screamed, _"OVERDUE! GRADES! REPORT CARDS!"_ before going to a more sing-song-ish kind of _'Ahhhh-ahhhh-ahhhh-tweet-tweet-tweet-ahhhh-ah-ahhhhhhhhhh."_

He woke up to the sound of Bunnymund throwing his alarm clock against the closet and sat himself up. As he groggily wiped his eyes, he found that somehow during the night, the bag of homework had knocked itself over and part of the contents had spilt out below him.

Though the books and the sheets didn't belong to him, he was a nice, considerate guy. So he scooped them up together and stuffed them inside the bag. And then he sighed, because he knew that all his effort in studying wasn't going to go anywhere if Hans' grades didn't improve. No college was going to give him a chance if his records were that messed-u.

Speaking of the devil (for surely a fiendish psychopath like Hans deserved nothing less than such a title), the redheaded boy didn't speak to him throughout the following school day – no insults, no jabs. He just shot an amused grin at him, half-pitiful and half-knowing, as if he was saying, _"You will keel and kneel. Just you wait. Just you wait."_

The weird part about it was that the boy's taunting (or there lack of) was it actually _working_. It was like the message behind this whole thing was _'do my homework and I'll leave you alone, plus teachers would think you're a real goody-two-shoes now.'_

The stack of homework weighed heavily on Jack's mind and in the evening when he got back to his dorm, against his better senses, he actually pulled the stack of work onto his lap and took a look at it. Hans really didn't do a lot of his work – really. A lot. There were exercises that had been covered months ago, as well as projects that had been handed up a long time ago. Jack rolled his eyes, but before he knew it, he was sitting down and completing a history assignment that he had already done before.

When he had done that, he stared down at it, then laughed. "Okay," he said to himself, picking the piece up. "This is stupid."

Summoning all his might, he crunched the sheet up into a ball and tossed into the bin. He beamed at himself in pride. There was no way on Earth he was going to do Hans' homework for him.

Right.

Right?

He picked the sheet out of the trash and straightened it out. It would be a pity to waste this, especially since he had done it so well.

"Can I borrow your ironing board?" he asked his roommate, who had remained completely oblivious to the struggle that transpired.

Bunnymund looked at him oddly. "Sure, but you've never asked before."

"Oh, sorry," was Jack's sheepish reply, scratching his head, going to retrieve the item he had requested for.

"You've also never apologised before," Bunnymund added, scrutinising him while he started setting up the ironing board. In a manner as concerned as he would dare, he asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," the white-haired laughed a little too shrilly as he plugged his iron into the socket. As he pressed the hot metal surface against the crumpled sheet, he murmured scornfully, "Just _fine_."

The next morning, he sought out the redhead. His pride had been swallowed and stuffed down in the dungeon of his soul. His practicality had to be forced to run business for the day, because heaven knows the only reason why he would be doing this was because he needed it.

"Well, hello, Frost," was the strangely cordial greeting he received from Hans as they ran into each other along the corridor. The emerald eyes that were supposed to be oh-so-enthralling flashed with both interest and warning. "What can I do for you?"

Jack subtly checked his surroundings. His friends were nowhere in sight and most of the nearby students were occupied with their own matters. With a clearly unhappy face, he removed a small folder from his bag and handed it to the other boy. "Here."

Hans took the folder and opened it. After browsing through it briefly, he closed it and asked, "Where's the rest?"

"I'm working on it." Jack shot him a disparaging look. "You have a lot of overdue work, you know?"

Trying to guilt this guy was like asking a dog to stop chasing its tail. "I'm fully aware of that, which is why you need to work faster. And you also owe me cupcakes."

"Oh, be grateful I'm doing any of it," hissed the white-haired boy, shoving past the redhead. The stunned look from the other boy, who hadn't expected it, gave him a slight sensation of satisfaction.

Of course, the sensation was incredibly slight, because it faded quickly, and Jack found his time tightened with the doubled workload. Bunnymund didn't know, of course, because if he did, he would have them both reported and that would be another black mark added to Jack Frost's extraordinary collection. If Kristoff knew, the blonde junior student would hunt down his ex-roommate and beat him up, and Hans would report them both and that would still be another black mark added to the collection again. For obvious reason, Anna was kept in the dark.

That said, he was sort of glad that he had an excuse to postpone their dates now. Things had been getting a little _awkward_ between them.

It occurred to him after he had dropped the folder into Hans' hands for the third time that he had, rather stupidly, dug himself into another grave.

THIS IS JUST LIKE ACT 32! SERIOUSLY JACK! WILL YOU EVER LEARN?

(Well, I can't exactly answer that. I mean, it might spoil the-)

Just get back to the story!

(Oh, really? I mean, you seem really upset and everything, so I just wanted to check on you. Do you need, like, a stress-ball, or a massage? I know a really good _masseuse-_ )

GET BACK BEFORE PEOPLE FORGET WHAT THIS STORY IS REALLY ABOUT!

(Oh. Right. Oops.)

BACK TO STORY - NOW!

(#breakingthefourthwallwhooo~~~)

I SAID NOW!

(Okay, okay, geez. _(muttering)_ Just trying to be nice.)

I heard that!

Act 56: Where the Braid Parade Duked it Out

What is 'shopping' really? Does it refer to going through tons and tons of different garments and taking a few of the shelves, or does it just refer to the act of buying the object?

Because if it's the latter, then she and Anna were not really shopping. They were more like homing missiles, honing down on their target. It had been a week since they had both agreed that they needed to go down to the mall and get that 'Perfect-Prom-Queen-Material', as Anna had dubbed it. Work, varying commitments and Elsa's new tuition session made it difficult to settle on a time they seek out that the dream dress together, and Elsa had promised her sister that it would be a 'together' thing.

"So, what's Pitch like as a tutor?" Anna asked as they dug through the trains of dresses.

They were at the same shop that Merida had bought her own dress, and it was one of those mega stalls that sold clothes of all kinds for all seasons and better still, most items were on sale. Elsa didn't really pay the whole sales thing much attention, focusing solely on getting that dress. _The_ dress. The sole consolation to her attendance of Prom.

That, and making Anna happy.

"He's a complete nightmare," she answered, herself browsing quickly through the gowns on display. She knew that her chances of finding _the_ dress were unlikely. After all, it had been ages since she had come here with Merida and by now the gown might have been taken by someone else, or it might have been cleared off by the store people, locked up in some storage area where it could never see the light of day again.

That thought made her shiver.

"Hehe," she heard Anna chuckle. "That bad, huh?"

"You have no idea," Elsa said, sighing emphatically.

Pitch had done his best to be as condescending as possible, with scathing remarks slotted in between every third sentence and smug looks at the smallest mistake she made. She didn't want to go for these tuition sessions and honestly, no one could make her. But after having been sentenced to a programme that she had once believed were only for the half-wits of the school, the stab in her pride had wounded her more than she thought it could. That combined with the haughtiness of his 'peer-tutor' brought her back to the work desk more than she liked to admit. She tried to quash the old habits - the old fears that kept her locked and rigid before, the old thoughts that made her defensive and worried.

She would not go back to that again.

"Oh, my, this one is cute." Anna pulled out a basque waist gown. "Why not this instead?"

Elsa took one look at it and giggled. "Anna, it's bright orange."

"So?"

"I'm blonde. It'll clash."

"Is there a rule that blonde can't wear orange?" Anna made a comical expression, eyes large and chin drawn in. With an exaggerated air of drama, she said in falsely accented voice, "Well, I've never heard such nonsense! _Nein, nein, nein!_ "

She stamped her foot and put a hand on her hip with a mocking show of indignance, which had her elder sister covering her mouth to choke back her laughter. "I will not have it! If the future Prom Queen, _Elsa Elizabeth Catherine Bertha Martha Mona Lisa Ave Maria Tussauds_ _of Our glorious House Arendelle_ wishes to wear orange, I declare that only a cry from the heavens themselves-" jabbing a finger vindictively in the air "-would keep her from doing so. I, _Anna Stravinsky Caribbean Hula-Hooper Chocophile_ , sister to the Future Prom Queen and Knight of the Book Club,-" clasping her hands to her chest, which made Elsa snicker even louder "- shall be her guardians and strike down any naysayers that might keep her from the truest delight derived from the wearing of bright colours! What are you laughing about?" She wagged her brow at her elder sister in pretended confusion. "I am perfectly serious."

"I'm sure you are." Elsa struggled to keep a straight face, coughing back another peal of laughter.

She made an exaggerated curtsey, making her voice higher pitch than usual. "Why, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, _Good Anna Stravin_ -something, Knight of the Book Club, for your loyalty and support in my dressing choices. Alas!" Elsa placed a hand on her chest, and another on her forehead, which in turn made her sister explodes into laughter. "I fear that my constitution and my petty prejudices have made it very undesirable for me to don a colour of such radiance. Oh, dearie, dear me,-" she fanned herself with her hand, making Anna's guffaws rise by several decibels "-I'm afraid that we should return this excellent dress back to the rack."

"It shall be as you say, your highness," Anna attempted to deadpan, though her lips kept cracking up into a smile. With an exaggeratedly dignified manner, she slotted the dress back to its original position, before raising an arm out to her sister. "Come, let us return to that glorious hunt for the 'Perfect Prom Queen Material'."

"Indeed, your highness," Elsa answered, pulling a straight face herself and taking Anna's arm. "Let us resume the hunt."

Both girls then glided down the department store with arms held out stiffly and their chins raised high, as if they were royals gracing their presence to this humble place. The passing janitor just looked at them as if they were just pure nuts, which they probably were.

A bout of laughter later, the two of them dropped the pretence and returned to full out hunting – and indeed it was a hunt. While Elsa perused another section of gowns, she heard Anna say, a little hesitantly, "Elsa?"

She paused her task to look up at her sister. "Yes?"

"Well, if you don't mind me asking-" the girl toyed with her braids, seeming a little uneasy especially with how the words tumbled around "-do you like – I mean, did you – I mean, you used to date Pitch, right?"

"It's not something I'm very proud of." Elsa made a wry look. "But yes, I did."

"Phew! That's something I actually know about you. Ha! Who knew?" the girl muttered in low voice, more to herself than anything. Then, she said, still fumbling a bit, "So, erm, why did you?"

Elsa felt herself stiffen up at the question. She suddenly felt a tightening at her throat. The temptation to close the doors was incredibly strong. She shook herself, trying to will away this silly feeling. She was not afraid. She _could not_ be afraid anymore.

"Well," she managed to force out her mouth, still fighting that tightening feeling around her throat, "I suppose it's because we were alike, I guess."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. They had shared similarities in intellect, in interests and in academic prowess, but their personalities and behaviours were very different. She allowed herself to do nothing, and he allowed himself to do anything.

"Then, why did you guys break up?"

"Well," Elsa began to form her answer, then paused. She was going to say that it was because he was an amoral, cynical, macabre psychopath, since that was really a reasonable answer, but if she was to be really honest with herself, that wasn't what had bothered her the most about him.

During the period of their 'relationship' – if that was what it could be called, the companionship between them was cold and unloving. Anything that passed between them was either acrid or uninteresting and there was little joy time spent together. Eventually, the growing friction of egos finally burst into flame and the incapability of compromise resulted in her dumping him in rage and him burning her laptop just because he could.

"I suppose," she finally said, after a long moment of thought, "we were far too alike."

"Hmm." By how impassive Anna's response was, Elsa assumed that that was the end of topic, but then she heard the girl speak, in quieter voice, "So, do you think Jack and I will eventually break up?"

Elsa was taken aback by the question. "What?"

"You and Pitch broke up because you guys were too alike, right? Jack and I are pretty alike in lots of stuff, so I kinda of extrapolated from there," Anna explained, shoving her hands into her dress pockets, staring listlessly at the endless stream of dresses.

"Well, no. Of course not," her sister was quick to answer, pausing the search. She drew up to the younger girl, downcast and biting her lip. "It's not exactly a hard and fast rule that people who are alike would break up. In a matter of fact, I'm sure it's what makes some couples get together in the first place."

"But that still doesn't mean that it'll last, right?" Anna murmured, scrapping her shoe against the floor. "What's the point if it doesn't last?"

It did hit Elsa then that she had never actually spoken long enough to her sister all her life to see her like this. She had always assumed that Anna enjoyed frivolity and parties and being 'hyper' and other silly things associated with being a teen, but she had never thought of Anna as someone who dreamed and feared tomorrow. She never even thought that Anna would _think_ of tomorrow.

"What brought this up?" Her voice sounded reserved, but there was a part of her inside that actually felt incredibly eager to know the cause of these brooding sentiments. She shrugged it off as being concerned about her sister's love life, but a scornful sneer at the back of her head berated her for deceiving herself.

"It's just, well, Jack and I haven't really been talking a lot these past days," Anna admitted, pressing her lips together after she spoke, scrunching up her hands inside her coat and tugging it against herself. "I think he's been really busy with studies recently, which I get, I guess, but we used to be closer." She removed her hands from her pocket to play with the zipper of the jacket. "He hasn't replied most of the messages I've been sending him these days."

"Well, I'm sure it's just busyness," Elsa said lightly, trying to inject cheer some in her tone. "Anyway, I wouldn't let you date someone who wasn't responsible enough to study for his finals." She couldn't help feeling a sting as the words came out of her mouth.

It didn't show on her face though, for her sister smiled at the comment, saying, "Well, I guess so."

"Don't worry about Jack," the blonde girl said, smiling even as she tried to squash this mysterious uneasiness she felt swimming in her stomach. What was wrong with her? "He's a nice guy. He'd never hurt you."

The reassurance did make Anna perk up and soon she returned to perusing the gown collection, making remarks every now and then as she came across one that she liked. Elsa, however, couldn't ignore the mysterious weight pressing against her chest as she watched her sister chatting animatedly and dancing down the store aisles. Anna was already so cheerful, friendly, optimistic, hopeful, sweet….

… so why did she also get to have a boy just as wonderful she was? Wasn't it kind of unfair how two rays of unadulterated sunshine would be clustered together when the rest of the world stayed dark, cold and ugly? Shouldn't there be some kind of rule that forced them to go out and mingle with the rest of them infidels so that the goodness and kindness could be shared?

And then Elsa pulled the brakes on her train of thought and she shook her head. _'Where were all these ideas coming from?'_ she wondered as she dug through the rack. Anna liked Jack. Jack made Anna happy. And if Anna was happy, she was happy. That was supposed to be how the story went. That was supposed to be how the story was meant to be.

But envy was a sneaky serpent that had somehow wormed its way into her mind, and she was finding it difficult to be happy for Anna. It was ridiculous, really, since she had in part shoved Anna into the boy's arms in the first place – or more, well, the other way around, she supposed. But the wants of man – or in her case, a woman – were often irrational and now it played tricks on her, teaching her to long for precisely what she had given away.

It was an unpleasant gnawing feeling that stirred a swarm of unpleasantness inside her, and she wished that she could just lock them up, bury them in the ground and throw away the –

What was she doing? No! No! That's what the old Elsa would have done. 'Conceal, don't feel' – all that nonsense was over. _No!_ The emotion were uncomfortable, but she could deal with them. Other people dealt with this all the time, right? This wouldn't be such a big deal. She could sort this out. She could do. She could –

This was so unfair. Why couldn't the world have more white-haired boys who tell lame jokes and do insane yet fun ideas while being sweet, determined, thoughtful and –

She really needed to stop this. She was stopping this. STOP.

STOP.

STOP.

STOP.

Also cute. Sweet, determined, thoughtful and really, really cute. Why couldn't the world have more of them?

STOP. And when did she ever start thinking he was cute? Heck that, when did she even start _using_ the word 'cute'?

While our heroine struggled with her innermost thoughts once again, our heroine's sister continued her mission to find the 'Perfect Prom Queen Material'. She knew that her sister was specifically seeking out a certain light blue gown that was sort of sparkly, with white, semi-translucent sleeves and a matching sash. She pursed her lips as she checked all the dresses in the line-up that the remotest hint of blue in it, wondering who on Earth would be nuts enough to that colors like those would make an elegant gown. The combo sounded really …cartoony.

All her prejudices against a blue and white gown promptly fell away when she did actually catch sight of the gown.

"Elsa!" She grabbed her sister by her arm. It later did register in her mind that she hadn't made bodily contact with her sister since, well, possibly forever. But while she was this excited, Anna didn't think through her actions too completely.

The blonde seemed to have been rudely awakened from deep thinking, if her spooked behaviour, but any ill feel she might have had to her waker was promptly forgotten as Anna slapped her against the arm and pointed. "Look! Is that the one?"

The dress she pointed to was the one that was hanging from a rack just two rows down from where they were. It was glistening, shimmering just as gorgeous as Elsa remembered it.

"Yes," the girl breathed out slowly, relieved. Then she nodded, excitement building. "Yes, yes, yes, that's the -"

And then a passing customer went by the rack, picked up the dress, glanced it, then put it over her arm.

The two sister gawked in disbelief as they watched the perfect gown being swept away, down the store aisle. All the gowns here were certainly one of a kind, which meant further searching would only be futile.

But Elsa refused to give up. "I'm going to ask her."

Anna startled at this declaration. "Wait. What?"

"I'm going to ask that person to let me have that dress," Elsa said, already moving out of the row and into the aisle, hastening her pace to catch up with the disappearing gown.

"Erm, Elsa?" Anna's tone was hesitant as she stumbled forward to follow her sister. "I kinda, eh, think that's not the best idea…"

"Why not?" The blonde said, shrugging. "I'll just explain that's its Prom, and that I really want my dream dress. If she's nice enough, she'll give it over. Um, excuse me?" she raised her voice to call out to the person. "Could you hold up for a sec?"

"That's not the problem," Anna protested, sounding more urgent now.

"Relax, I've got this all under-" and then she broke herself off.

The girl, now that she had turned around, was clearly recognized as Astrid Hofferson.

A.k.a Captain of the female Rugby team, Head Student Councillor and Winner of the last two years level beauty pageants.

A.k.a. ANOTHER Prom Queen contestant. And absolutely nothing will go wrong, because Astrid was a really sweet, charming girl…unless you got in the way of her way of getting what she wanted. Just ask the opponents of last season's game. They're still sporting bruises.

"Well, er, Elsa, isn't it?" Astrid smiled brightly at the elder sister, then gazed briefly at the other girl, who now wore a grimacing expression. "Fancy seeing you shopping here too." Her eyes darted back and forth between the two, friendliness slipping away abruptly. "So, can I help you girls?"

"Yes, actually," Elsa cut straight to the chase despite the furious shaking of Anna's head, stepping forward. "That dress." She nodded to the sparkling flow of fabric tucked under the other girl's arm. "I was actually wondering if I could have it."

Astrid blinked, shifting the gown so that she could fold her arms. "Oh. Um, there's a slight problem 'coz, I don't know-" she shrugged, albeit a little exaggeratedly "-I want it, and I saw it first. So,-" shaking her head, part apologetic, part smug "-fraid I can't help you with that."

"Actually, I saw it first," Elsa said, face expressionless and arms crossed too. "Several weeks ago, actually."

"Really?" The other girl put a hand on her hip, raising a brow skeptically. "Then didn't you buy it then?"

"I-" Elsa pursed her lips together, then decided that to go with being candid. "I didn't think I would be actually going for Prom then, but now I want to go, and I would like very much to have that dress." She angled her head sharply towards the gown.

Astrid considered her coolly for a moment, then slowly took a step towards her, expression pinched and displeased. "I don't think you fully understand how seriously I take Prom. For example, shoes-" she pointed down to her feet, directing the two girls to admire the white three-inch heels"- I had them to pre-ordered and personalised from Madrid.

"Hair?" She twirled her own blonde braid, which was much like Elsa's except thicker and with more elaborate knots done into. Somehow, that action alone was sufficient to make the other blonde twist her own hand. "I had the hair-dresser for the night booked six months in advance. Make-up artist was eight months in advance. And the dress?"

Astrid stopped for a breath, sucking in deeply and narrowing her eyes. "I've been looking the entire years for the perfect dress, and trust me when I say, _this_ -" she unfolded the shimmering, crystalline fabric of the gown "-is the perfect dress. I'm afraid that I'm not going to giving it up that easily."

"O-kay then." Anna made an awkward giggle as she tried to pull Elsa away. "I guess we'll just be going then."

"Hold on." Elsa pushed her sister's hand off her own, turning back to face the other girl. Looking down at the gown, then Astrid, she said, tone polite but with an edge to it, "It is the perfect dress, yes, but-" she gestured towards the gown and pulled a face.

Though wary, the girl holding the dress was curious enough to lean closer and asked, "But what?"

"It's bit a long for you, don't think?"

Astrid snorted at her, taking the dress by the yokes and holding it out at arms-length. "It's not too-" she paused as she observed how the end of the dress swept against the floor, then drew it nearer towards herself to find that the result was indeed true.

"You might considering _trying_ the dress before buying it." Elsa's comment, though said with a straight-face, had a triumphant endnote to it.

But the other blonde didn't relent, still folding the dress up under her arm possessively. "Well, I can get altered at the counter."

"You can't get these kind of dresses altered," was the objection that came, with her blue eyes flashing bright. "It's a masterpiece! It'll be like drawing a rainbow on the Mona Lisa."

"That would be cool, actually," Anna said in a deliberately loud voice, trying to step in between the two girls. "And you know what else is cool?" She wagged a finger at both of them. "You two have bright blue eyes, blonde hair and like wearing your hair in braids. You could be mirrors of each other!"

"Well, sometimes the masterpiece needs to be updated so that it can fit into the grand design, don't you think?" came Astrid's acrid answer, teeth grinding against each other.

" _Masterpieces_ ," Elsa spoke testily, face hardening as she shoved Anna aside so that she glared directly at her opponent, "are meant evergreen. Untouched and left in its original condition. If the design can't fit the masterpiece, then maybe the design is _not fit_ for the masterpiece, if you get what I mean."

"Oh, and my favourite artist is Jackson Pollock," Anna interjected brightly, trying to break the tension – and not doing a very good job of it. "What's yours?"

"Excuse me?" Astrid's voice was raised a decibel, one of her fists clenching.

"You heard me loud and clear." Elsa loftily folded her arms. "This dress not made for people of your build."

"And no one's listening to me," Anna grumbled to – unsurprisingly – no one in particular.

"Oh, and it's made for people like you? Who couldn't care less about Prom just a week ago?" Astrid fired back hotly, stabbing a finger towards the girl. "I've worked hard for this. I've been preparing to be Prom Queen for the last year and by the gods, I _deserve_ this dress. And you can bet I'm not going to give this to some bratty Snow Queen who turns her nose up at everyone else because she's got a superiority complex!"

"This will not end well," the resigned brunette commented as Elsa absorbed the comment.

Like a bear being roused from its hibernation was the building chill in the taller girls voice. "What did you call me?"

"Snow Queen. Frosty. Stuck-up. Holier-Than-Thou Freak-show. You may have changed your appearance, but that hardly changes who you are." Astrid had a taunting gleam in her eye. "Get used to the title, _your majesty_ , 'cause trust me – that's the only Queen you're ever gonna be."

Elsa glowered at the girl and it was tempting, also tempting to punch her between the eyes.

And because she had absolutely no restraints on her own behaviour, Elsa did.

"What the heck-" Astrid pulled back in shock, slightly dazed by what just happened.

As one of her hands went to cover her nose, the other blonde quickly snatched the dress from her hands and sprinted down the aisle, screaming, "Run, Anna!"

The brunette girl herself was rather startled by the unexpected turn of events and when she did find the ability to move her limbs once again, took one look at the fuming senior student clutching her nose and said, "Oh."

Then she ran.

If this was any other girl that Elsa would have punched, she might have possibly succeeded in her endeavour. But as it was, this was Astrid Hofferson – Rugby Captain, Head Student Councillor and infamous for her bad-temper and 'I-will-end-you-if-YOU-DON'T-GIVE-THAT-BACK' kind of competitiveness.

And she gave chase, like a cheetah pursuing an antelope.

And she managed to loop around and cut our heroine off half-way off her path.

And with a magnificent jump kick, she struck our heroine backwards, causing our heroine to stumble back.

And the other blonde took the dress from her and cackled triumphantly, running off to the payment counter, promising to mention her in her coronation speech after she became Prom Queen.

To which our heroine glowered, then speed off after her.

After which, she passed by a tray of loose hangers, grabbed one and tossed it like a boomerang down the shopping aisle.

To which the hanger-boomerang struck Astrid in the knee, caught her off guard and had her tumbling forward, face first.

After which, our heroine started running forward, lips pursed and determined.

To which Astrid just glared at, before pushing herself off the ground and straightening herself up, gown bundled under her arm.

To which she found to her surprise Anna managed to swipe from her, shouting, "Thanks!"

To which was a little early, because Astrid promptly grabbed her by the coat hoodie and yanked her back, tripping her backwards and releasing the brunette's grip on the gown.

After which Astrid used the opportunity to grabbed the dress back, screaming, "It's mine!" and planned to run off, only for Anna in turn to throw herself forward and hug the senior student's legs.

To which the crazed blonde athlete retaliated by trying to shove her off, only to realise that Anna had really strong arms and she wouldn't move.

To which Anna realised, to her delight, that the enemy had been immobilised. "Elsa!" she shrieked ecstatically. "TAKE IT HOME!" Then as an afterthought, added with a squeal, "LIKE LITERALLY! AFTER WE PAY!"

To which Elsa grinned, and then found a shopping cart just sitting there nearby where she was. By the boxes of shoes inside it, it was probably not for customer use, but who cares? She noted, conveniently, that the path to the payment counter was a downward slope.

To which she grabbed the handles of the shopping cart and ran for with it, with Anna whooping in victory.

However, the foe noted Anna's distraction and began wriggling out her grip, pushing against the younger girl's face and managing to loosen the hold on herself considerably. Stiffly, she moved both herself and the brunette towards the payment with large, though awkward, steps.

"ELSA!" Anna screamed as the other blonde started on her slow but determined advance towards the finish line. "I CAN'T HOLD HER ANY LONGER!"

Gritting her teeth, Elsa started herself on a sprint, not caring if her heels were killing her. When the cart started to gain momentum, she let go it briefly before hurriedly throwing herself flat onto of the shoe boxes. As the wheels rattled below her, she quickly pulled herself up, grabbing the sides of the cart to steady herself.

As she had predicted, the cart swooshed down the incline, startling other customers and staff that happened to be along the path. As she passed the rival blonde, she held out her hand and snatched the turquoise gown out of her hands. Outrage and disbelief marked Astrid's face as the shopping cart zoomed by. Anna on the other hand went absolutely nuts, releasing the enemy from her grip and throwing in her hands in the air, cheering, "HOME-RUN! HOME-RUN!"

Elsa herself was on her triumphant parade, seated on top of the mountain of shoes boxes like it was her carriage and waving the gown as if it were a flag. She was laughing with such glee that she didn't notice the little black rubber bump along the polished ground. You know, the kind of bumps that are put over electrical wires so that people don't break them and get electrocuted and stuff.

And when the wheels of the cart hit the bump, the cart tipped over.

Out went the shoe boxes, flying everywhere like comets from an exploding asteroid. The star of our show was startled when she was launched into the air and the gown left her hands, flying off on its own. She stumbled forward, tumbling and sliding on the hard floor just in time to miss the 180 flip of the shopping cart. What more, with all the speed it had accumulated, the cart continued sliding forward, metal on marble squeaking fiercely and driving other customers away with frightened squeals. It only stopped when it finally crashed into the payment counter, much to the horror of the staff member who had just managed to escape the devastation in time.

Pushing herself off the ground, Elsa swung her braid behind before glancing up at the terrified people, the overturned cart and the wrecked payment counter. She cringed. "Oops."

That, sadly, was not the end of it.

You know how I said that that the shoe boxes were flying like comets? Well, one of the shoe boxes flew up so high that it crashed into the chandelier that just happened to hanging above the payment counter area. It was kind of an upper-notch of retail store, so the folks who designed wanted it to look classy enough and they put a chandelier there. Not the wisest choice, because they didn't take into account the possibility of a box of shoe whacking it hard. Like really hard.

The chandelier pieces jingled around a bit, some of them smashed upon impact and starting to crumble. One of the primary pieces must have gotten broken in the process, because – whoopsies! Was that the chain holding the chandelier? Well, it wasn't a very strong chain.

People screamed as they saw the large glass structure plummeting towards the floor, with everyone clearing the area around the payment counter. By then, our heroine had clambered to her feet, dress under her arm. She puzzled a little why everyone was running, then looked up and said, "Oh."

And then she ran.

And then the stupid heel of one boot broke.

And then she tripped.

And then the chandelier came tumbling down, like the walls in the song ' _Pompeii_ ' by Bastille. Which might have been talking about the actual city of Pompeii that was destroyed by a volcano in the BCs.

And the moral of the story, kids, is don't run in heels.

In a matter of fact, stay far, far away from heels. They are useless creatures that will make your legs scream unnecessarily while predisposing you to falling flat on your face.

Our heroine certainly would agree with that. Well, if she was conscious.

What an idiot.

~~~0~~~

 **A/N: Short note, because I really need to sleep.**

 **I don't know Dutch, and I don't know there is a Dutch crown princess. I hope there isn't, so she'll never have to meet Hans.**

 **I have finally written out a plan for this story, so hopefully it will end by Chapter 13. HAHAHAHAHAHA - who am I kidding…**

 **Zenaida: Yep, this is not ending that soon. MUHAHAHAHAA. Prepare to suffer!**

 **Time to sleep, because the author, too, is at times an idiot.**

 **Reviews would be nice, but mostly I just hope that you've enjoyed this.**

 **~~~0~~~**


	10. Chapter 10

Where Jack Frost Chapter 10

~~~0~~~

Act 57: Where Consequences Were Certainly in Order

"I understand the dress. _Humph!_ I understand the trolley full of boxes of the shoes! But what I do not understand is," the principal spluttered a little while stroking his beard, clearly more shaken than he would like to be, "a chandelier?"

"It was an accident," Elsa defended herself weakly. She had woken up about half-an-hour after the whole incident, so they hadn't admitted her at the hospital. They, however, did fix up the bruises and cuts she had - along her legs, arms and face - and she felt vaguely like a rag doll with all the patches slapped onto her.

"Do you know how much it costs?" Principal North continued on his tirade, his face turning almost crimson in his flabbergasted rage. He let out such a vehement string of Russian curses that the girl edged her chair away from him, slightly concerned. Rubbing his face with a large palm, he let out a long sigh. Facing her with a grim expression, he told her, the thickness of accent not hiding the seriousness of his tone, "You know that there are students in other schools who have been expelled for less."

This hadn't gone as she had expected. She expected a reprimand and a truck load of detention even, but _expelled_? "I know that it's not really my place to say," Elsa said, syllables slipping over one another in her alarm, "but that's a little extreme, don't think, sir?"

"Well," North shrugged, pouring himself a mug of coffee from the coffee-maker pot on his shelf, "fight between students usually do not merit an expulsion, but having it in a public area? And destroying hundreds worth of property at the same time?" He shook his head, gazing at her in a manner that seemed so heartbreakingly sorrowful that it almost made her keel over and beg for forgiveness. "Once, I can excuse as impulse, but twice? This time there has to be consequences." The large man reclined back into his chair, locked his fingers together and waited, it seemed, for her to give a good reasonable explanation.

The problem was that, well, Elsa didn't have one. When she parted her lips to speak once again, she felt her tongue folding back on itself. Part of her itched to have a pen in grasp again, to be able to churn out the reasons on the paper as she had done so many years before, but that part of her was quickly silent by the other part of herself who remembered how much she hated that process – to build walls of cold, clear logic to defend a thesis she despised.

Thus, no words left her mouth and her nail-painted hands curled up around each other. Her eyes were glued down to the floor as the silence dragged on.

She heard the principal let out a disappointed exhale, before finally breaking the stillness himself. "I will not be expelling you."

Elsa let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Though her care-free attitude said otherwise, she was actually unprepared to truly let _everything_ go. She was frightfully unprepared to leave school.

"I will, however, be suspending you."

Her eyes widened in horror. Suspension? It wasn't as bad as expulsion, but if she thought punching Hans had earned her black mark, a suspension drove the nail into her coffin. It would show up in all of her transcripts for sure, like a glaring zit on a photo-taking day. Any college she applied to know would definitely hone in on it and attack it.

"Now, it won't be very long," North explained hastily, almost as if he were reassuring. "Just a day."

"But," Elsa protested, and found again that her inventory of defences was empty.

"You would be given work to do, which would be due on the day of your return," North continued on, scribbling something on a notepad near his phone, before using his pencil to stir his coffee. "I hope that you would use your time wisely to contempt your error."

She corrected him without thinking. "You mean 'contemplate', sir?"

"Contempt. Contemplate. Are they not the same?" The Russian-born principal grimaced at the words. "Whatever the matter, use your suspension time wisely. Your sister sadly-" North sighed for what must have been the millionth time that day, rising the mug to his lips and sipping the coffee, "-never got much out of hers."

Elsa blinked, straightening up. "Wait. Anna has been suspended before?"

The principal seemed astonished at her own astonishment. "Well, quite a number of times. I assume you knew."

No, she didn't know, because her old self had never tried especially hard to know her sister better, and her new self had somehow never come across this topic at all. Certainly not in all the new conversations that she was supposed to have with her sister anyway.

With a slight edge in her voice, Elsa inquired, "What exactly did my sister do?"

~~~0~~~

Act 58: Where Old Habits Die Hard, but Somehow Wouldn't Just Die.

"You introduced a flock of ducks into the school swimming pool!"

"It was just a harmless joke," Anna said with a wave of her hand. "The swim captain had been pushing us all way too hard during that time, so I decided to annoy her. Besides," she giggled, "the ducklings were way too adorable! It was totally worth it!"

"Anna," Elsa's tone was testy, "the pool couldn't be used for months! And there were people in the swim team who were allergic to ducks!" She was literally shaking her fists at the school compound. By the time they had both had their turns with Principal North, the sun had long disappeared down the horizon and the school compound, which had been desolate through the weekend, felt even more hollow and uninhabited. In the darkness and shadows, it was as if they were in a foreign land.

"And that time when you carried out your experiments in the school lab at after hours without supervision," the older girl rattled on, still incredulous about all the deeds that she had just learnt about. "Were you insane?"

"Burning magnesium's so pretty," was Anna's comeback and it was not a very good one.

"Not when your 'magnesium' is actually sodium!" Elsa fumed, her teeth grinding against each other as she mentally went over all of her sister's exploits. "How could you not know the difference? Sodium's always stored in oil and magnesium's stored dry!"

"I'm not very smart, okay?" was the younger girl's annoyed retort. "I didn't actually pay attention in science classes."

"And that time when you actually caused a power shortage in the entire school building? I can't believe that you never told me that it was you!"

"Well, I would have, except that I knew that you'd react like this!" Anna growled back, folding her arms and looking genuinely cross herself. "And besides, it's not as if we were exactly on speaking terms." Muttering – "And who's fault was that?"

"Don't try to change the subject," Elsa snapped, her jaw tightening as she brushed aside the glower her sister shot her. Gritting her teeth and trying not to pull on her braid, she stopped them both in the middle of the corridor, earning a questioning look from Anna. "All this time, you had all these-" she grappled for a word "-offences pinned under your belt and I have no idea." Making a guttural sound under her throat" - I don't know what make me madder – the fact that you did them or the fact that I don't know about them!"

"Well, you would have known about them if you bothered to find out," Anna pointed out, wrinkles deepening in her forehead. "But you never really cared much about me in the first place."

"That's not true," Elsa denied, feeling deeply indignant.

"Oh, really?" The younger girl spun to her sharply, tone suddenly acrid and harsh. "What about all the times you would purposely go out of the way to ignore me? Hmm? -" arms akimbo, voice louder "-Or when you do talk to me, you're either not interested or overtly critical of - I don't know - just _every tiny little thing_ I do?"

"I am not 'overtly critical'," the blonde contradicted, expression displaying her growing annoyance. "I'm just the right amount of critical, and you do make some terrible life choices, if the string of suspensions you _apparently_ have attained are anything to go by."

"Well, forgive me for being human." The way she drew out the last two words conveyed with surprising conciseness the scorn that Anna truly felt. Brushing aside the strands that had fallen on her face, the younger girl said, cold and clear, "Because some times when you try, you fail. But it's better than not trying, like _some people_ I know."

Taken aback but not willing to concede, Elsa asked, "What are saying?"

"I'm saying, -" though her hands were clenched and her hands were flushed red, the tears in Anna's eye couldn't be missed, "-I've been trying, and I'm still trying, but you're not giving me very much to work worth with and this whole-" she gestured between them furiously "- _'blood's thicker than water'_ thing is seriously not working!"

Something what she had said did strike a chord with Elsa – in a matter of fact several things struck many, many chords with her. Slightly regretful, she reached out a hand and placed on her sister's shoulder, breathing out heavily, "Anna-"

"Don't, Elsa." With a chilliness that she didn't know her sister could possess, the brunette girl shrugged her hand off. Hardened and bitter, Anna told her, "I can't keep living like this – thinking that we could be best friends again, then thinking that we can't, then thinking that you enjoy my company, then thinking that you hate me."

"I-" Elsa tried to cut in, but Anna glossed over her forcefully.

"Get back to me when you've actually made up your mind, okay?" The other girl pulled away from her, spinning firmly around and marching down the corridor. "I suck enough at relationships, so if you don't mind, I'm trying to work out which are the people in my life that I can actually rely on."

By right, the new, bold Elsa with absolutely no fears or inhibitions should have run right after her angrily departing sister. She would engulf Anna in a hug and sob apologies for her negligence as the elder sibling, while promising instead to preserve the spirit of family in whatever remained of it.

But the truth was that the truth was often not easy. The earth was not exactly a sphere, tasty food was usually bad for your health and changing your entire life philosophy after punching a boy into a pool didn't mean that your basal instincts would alter according. And Elsa's basal instincts was to watch Anna walk away, with darkness filling the gap between them.

Even if she regretted every single second of it.

After Anna had long disappeared, Elsa stood alone in the empty corridor, staring down the long stretch of lockers and scratching uncomfortably at her bandages. After perhaps a minute – or maybe fifteen of them, she decided that tight sneakers that she had to borrow from Anna (the broken heel of her boot that betrayed her after all) were killing her feet and that she should change out of them.

She had left a decent set of flats in her locker, so she decided that she would journey to retrieve them. It wasn't all that far from her current position and soon she was kicking off the borrowed pair and slipping on the much more fitting pair. Of course, she hadn't worn the respectable, plain ballet flats ever since she had gone through her 'makeover' and donning them again gave her a mix of comfort and strangeness.

After she shut the locker door, she held the sneakers up and sighed. Elsa knew that she would have to return them to Anna eventually, but that would mean seeing her sister again. Seeing Anna meant a confrontation, and a confrontation was going to a plethora of emotions and uncomfortable thoughts.

For all she wished to be free with her feelings, emotions still did scare her.

As she prepared to make her way out of school – the janitor would be around soon to lock up the whole place at nine – she heard the creaking of hinges from another locker further down. Puzzled, she approached the source of the noise and found there on sight a boy removing a stack of worksheet from the locker. "Jack?"

~~~0~~~

Act 59: Where A Wonderful, but Horrible, but Also Wonderful, Mistake was Made

Have you ever wondered what the world would be like if clouds were actually made of cotton candy-like material instead being water droplets suspended in the air? Well, one, the world would probably suffer a terrifying mix of flood and drought, and two, this has absolutely no relevance to our story.

Well, okay, it was a little relevant. The question I posed above was indeed the one that had been occupying Jack while he removed Hans' homework for the week from his own locker, which was why he was startled when his name was called.

That, and his unethical arrangement with his pathologically eccentric redheaded rival was something he didn't want to reveal to the whole world.

Fumbling with the large stack and almost dropping it, but somehow managing to not do so and hugging it to his chest instead, Jack twisted his neck to see who it was that had almost caused the largest paper spillage in world history. It just took once glance at her to set his heart racing.

"Elsa," he said, surprised because that was what he was. He tried to hide that he was ecstatic that she had actually remembered his name after such a long while, because that was stupid, even bordering on pathetic. If he could roll his eyes at himself, he would.

Oh, wait, he could roll his eyes at himself. Hmm.

But now it wasn't the most appropriate time for him to do so, because the girl he had been crushing on for a good hard of his life was looking at him right now. Not that he should actually care about the opinion of someone who didn't care very much about him.

She eyed the large stack that he had pressed against himself, barely able to keep it from slipping out of his grasp. Slowly, she asked, "Need help with that?"

"Um, no," he lied, trying to adjust the stack in his arms only to for the stack to start slipping out even more.

The blonde girl rolled her eyes, because apparently she had no such inhibitions about doing that to him. Approaching him, she began grabbing part of the pile out of his grasp despite his protests.

"I had it," he muttered sourly as he straightened out his much lighter burden against the doors of the lockers.

"Of course you did," Elsa said, disbelief clear in her voice. Neatening up her own stack, she asked, "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Left homework here. Didn't want to wait till tomorrow to come get it," was his brief answer. He wasn't going to mention that most of it wasn't his own homework, of course. Kicking the locker door shut, he nodded to her stack. "Are you going to give that over?"

"I can manage it," the girl said, shaking her braid behind her. It was then he noticed the multitude of bandages stuck all over her body.

Trying not to seem too concerned, but yet not willing to keep silent – "What on Earth happened to you?"

She sighed, blowing off a lock of white-gold that fell over her eyes – an act that somehow he oddly still found rather appealing. Her shoulders slumped back and she grimaced. "Well, I suppose the whole school would find out by tomorrow. Somehow they always do."

So she recounted to him the shopping expedition that she had gone onto with her sister, her encounter and subsequent battle with Astrid Hofferson of the craved 'perfect dress' and, with a great deal of reluctance, her suspension.

"Wow," was all Jack could say, stunned. "Sounds like you had quite an adventure."

"You could call I that, I suppose," Elsa said wryly, fiddling with one of the sheets. "It did kind of go haywire at the end – that, and the chandelier was a bit much."

"You have to admit that it's quite a feat," he remarked jokingly, trying to lightened the mood. "Even on my list of mischief, I've never achieved something of that level."

"You make sound like it's something desirable," she commented, gazing up at him with a mix of amusement and disapproval – a muted sort of expression that seemed more like her droll-self rather than the flamboyant wild child that had been roaming these corridors for the last few weeks. Yet, Jack couldn't help but welcome the familiar manner.

"Well, I don't know." He shrugged. "Did you have fun?"

Elsa considered his question with a good deal more seriousness than he expected and when he was about to put in that he was just kidding, she answered, "For that split second before the trolley flipped over, yeah, I did."

"Oh." He blinked in surprise, for he had never thought that. "Well, did you like having fun?"

Jack watched as she sunk back into deep thought again, then said, "I suppose I did."

"Then it's worth it," he declared, grinning. "I mean, sure there's the suspension, but hey, one day you'll get to tell your kids all about the dumb things you did in high school. It'd make a great story"

She snorted at his answer, but he could see how the side of her lip twisted upward and felt his heart leap in his chest … and this was getting really weird. He was sort-of dating her sister, and she had pretty much rejected him before, so, _yeaaaahhh_. He needed to leave before this got weird, and by 'weird', he meant that before he did something very stupid.

"That's rather sweet of you, you know."

Jack blinked, mentally recounting to himself what he had just said and not finding how it she could have come up with this conclusion.

"Most people," Elsa absentmindedly straightened out one of the sheets of the stack she was holding, "think that I'll die depressed, bitter old hag. Sometimes, I think that of myself. So-" her eyes flitted up to him "-thank you for thinking I would ever have children. Or start a family." Her face darkened. "Or that any family I have would last sufficiently for me to have close enough a relationship to that I would tell them stories about my childhood."

"Um, sure." He was little puzzled by this. "Though I honestly can't see why you having kids –," he blushed slightly "-if you wanted to, I mean – would be so unbelievable. I mean, you're pretty and smart. I'm sure there'll be plenty of guys who'd throw themselves at your feet."

She raised her brow at him.

He still didn't get it. "What? It's true."

Elsa beamed at him, but more in an indulgent way than from actual pleasure. There was a good measure of remorse in her voice as she spoke, "You're a nice guy, Jack, but you know as well as I do that everyone in this school either fears me or detests me."

"That's not true," he rejected her words even before he had time to process them.

"It is," she insisted, leaning herself back into wall of lockers and sighing. "I mean, look at me." Scrunching her face up, the blonde girl glanced idly down at the stack of papers she still held. "I'm an emotional wreck, only able to swing from extremes. Either too much or too little." She picked at one of folded dog-ear on the pile. "I suppose it figures that I'm a quite a disappointing elder sister."

He didn't have to think very hard to put the pieces together. "So you fought with Anna again." Jack hummed in puzzlement. "But I thought you guys were getting along better, like that time at the sorbet parlour?"

"It _was_ getting better, but then I ruined it." She stamped a foot on the ground, annoyed but apparently not with him. "I lost my temper with her earlier, then she blew up too, and now…"

Elsa trailed off there, but it was more than sufficient to convey to Jack what had occurred. It did come to his attention though that unlike the first few times when she had complained to him about Anna, this time she directed the blame all to herself She told him almost nothing of what her sister had done to actually earn her wrath. Perhaps the fault really did lie with herself, but having her admit that so readily was strangely refreshing.

"Hey," he told her gently, earning a meek glance up towards him. "Look, you just need to tell her you're sorry."

She seemed confused by it. "I'm … sorry?"

Jack felt a pang of pity for her by how genuinely lost she appeared. With how proud she had been in a good part of her life, how many times had she actually apologised to anyone? "I mean, you do regret getting mad with her, right? So, just apologise, be sincere about it and she'll forgive you. Anna's not the petty type. She won't hold it against you."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, like that." He nodded approvingly. "You just need to find the courage to say it to her."

"No, I meant that I am sorry," she spoke with greater earnestness, gazing directly at him. "To you. I'm sorry."

He took a step back, eyes glazing over. "Wha-"

"I figured that I've probably hurt you a couple of times – many with words, at other times with actions," Elsa confessed, shamefacedly staring down at the stack she had been carrying for him. "I know you didn't deserve all that, so I think I owe you an apology."

"Oh." Jack felt a little peculiar at this twist in events, as if someone had picked up a giant ice-cream cake and dropped it in front of him without leaving instructions on what to do with it. So he here was, flopping listlessly around and not knowing how to react. "Oh."

"You're a really nice guy – like genuinely and sincerely nice," she went on, pulling herself off the lockers and finally handing the stack she had out to him, which gratefully added to back to his original pile. "You don't pretend to be perfect, or pretend to be nice, or pretend anything. You're just who you are." She bit her lip, folding her now free arms together. "Sometimes, I wish I could be like that."

If you had asked him a month ago if he'd thought Elsa Arendelle, his lifelong crush, would ever willingly deliver a string of compliments to him, he would have laughed. But standing here at this moment, having her say all that without a tint of sarcasm or a shade of artifice, he knew that beyond doubt that she meant it … and also beyond doubt that it wasn't true.

Against his own better judgement, he let out a groan and pulled off one of the sheets from his stack. "Take a look at this."

She took the sheet that he offered with a perplexed mien, but nonetheless studied it gravely. He felt dread pool in his stomach when her brows shots up and her head raised to face him. "Why do you have Hans' homework?"

With a sigh, he explained to her his predicament with his unwilling tutee and the guidance counsellor. Actually saying it out loud made him cringe at how stupid his situation sounded, but at the same time, he felt a great burden in his chest being lifted out as he shared this with her. It was strange to tell her all this, considering he hadn't told anyone else – not Kristoff, not Bunny, and certainly not Anna. But somehow, when he spoke to her, he couldn't help but be exactly honest with all his thoughts and feelings. The moment was so comfortable that both of them eventually ended up sitting down on the floor, backs leaning against the lockers, with him talking and her actually listening while glaring down at the stack of homework that didn't really belong to him.

"So, yeah, you must think me a loser," Jack finished, curling himself up like a ball against the locker. He steeled himself for the sharp rebuke that he had little doubt that she would deliver.

By her frown, Elsa was definitely displeased with the matter, but her answer was not what he had thought it'd be. "The next time I see Hans, I'm going to punch him again - hopefully into a ditch of manure this time."

Jack blinked at her.

"He's a manipulative, calculative, indolent jerk who exploits others for his own end," she explained curtly, brows furrowed together. "And also because I really want to."

"Wow. Um, I appreciate the sentiment, but-" he raised his hands up helplessly "-Hans would just find a way to blame me for it, and then the guidance counsellor would give me these heartbreakingly disappointed looks and I'll have to sit through a long dialogue with North again. And I'll have another mark on my conduct grade." He sighed, not daring look up. "Sometimes I wonder if I'd even get a job after high school."

"You will," came her ready answer not less than a second after he had stopped for a breath. "You're bright, earnest and sincere. Just wait and see – you'll have employers throwing themselves at your feet."

The thought of dozens of elderly men in formal suits and tie attire belly flopping themselves at his feet tickled him, so he burst into snickers.

"What?" Elsa was perhaps slightly annoyed with his reaction. "I was perfectly serious."

"I know, I know," he wheezed in between guffaws, grabbing his side, "it's just-" he exploded into laughter again.

After he managed calm down and wipe the tears from his eyes, he shared his peculiar image with her and she despite herself smiled at him, though she told him that she didn't think it was that hilarious (yeah, right she didn't) and then they both spent three minutes just taking turns to chuckle.

A little later after the laughing attack, both them just sat side by side at the lockers, not really saying anything, Jack said what he hadn't meant to say out loud. "I like this."

"You like this?" Elsa eyed him questioningly. "Sitting on a dirty floor of the school corridor at night?"

"No." He debated with himself on whether he should tell her, and it was only a minor struggle. "I like sitting here. With you."

She regarded his remark with a little alarm. "Oh." She hooked a lock of hair behind her ear, and part of him wished that he could have helped her with that. "But wouldn't Anna be more cheerful company?"

Anna. Right. Anna. The sweet kid who made him heart-shaped sandwiches and brought him ice-cream. His prom date. Her sister.

Reluctantly, Jack said, sitting himself up rather stiffly, "Yeah, but well, -" he paused, "-Anna's a good deal more cheerful, and loads of fun. But I don't know-" he shook his head "-there some things that I just can't talk to her about. When it comes to like deeper stuff, I just feel-" he used a nail to scratch a line down the stack of papers "-I feel like she doesn't want to know."

She peered at him quizzically. "Know what?"

"That I'm flawed. That I'm not the perfect prince charming that she would like me to be." He let out a heavy exhale while gesturing dismissively at himself.

"Well, you're no prince charming, true," he felt her drawing nearer to him and her cold hand pressed against his cheek, turning his head so that she could look him in the eyes, "but you're pretty perfect to me."

Before he could actually take in what was said, she had already leaned over and pressed her lips against his.

The first vestiges of shock were melted quickly as he absorbed the moment and realized that Elsa – the Elsa that he had liked since, well, _forever_ \- was kissing him. At her own free well.

And he hoped that she'd never stop.

He supposed that first time kisses were supposed to be short time little pecks full of blushing and awkwardness, with one party running away later while feeling completely elated. But then, he remembered that actually that 'first time peck kiss' had already happened what seemed to be ages ago when they had used the med-bay stretcher bed to go bed-riding down the school corridor.

So that meant that this was second kiss. What happened at second kisses? Movies never educated about those. Were they supposed to bear the innocent of the first, but with more confidence and purpose? Were they supposed to be clumsy still, but with a slight improvement in passion? Were they supposed to feel absolutely magical?

He wasn't sure exactly when his arms had circled her neck or when her fingers started carding themselves through his white hair. But it must have happened at some point because when they pulled apart, they were latched together in such a manner - panting, flushed, and a little confused about their whereabouts.

He must have been smiling at first, because he felt it when that smile slipped off his face, along with the blood draining from his cheeks. Shuffling himself back a bit too much and thus slamming himself into the lockers, he stared at her with a wild-eyed look.

Elsa treated his response with an expression of annoyance. "What?"

"You-" he couldn't get the word out of his throat, not with the way it was clogging up "-why did you – you-"

She turned crimson, and it was then that he realized he had never seen her turn that shade before. Honestly though, it was a good look on her. Well, she never looked bad in anything –

-okay, seriously, Jack, FOCUS.

"Well, I guess that I like you."

Wait. WHAT. "What?"

"I like you, Jack," she said simply. "You make it hard for me not to."

He stared at her, unable believe his own ears. This had to be some kind of joke, or a horrid hoax, except that he knew that she wasn't the type to do either.

Something in his expression must have told her as much, because Elsa then added, drawing herself back, "I get it if you don't believe me, and-" her face was unreadable but the hand which brushed her fringe back trembled "-it's fine if you don't like me back anymore."

He stared at her, his heart in his throat and completely at a loss of what to do or say next. He scrambled for some kind of action, or word, or anything, but he came out blank. Panicked, he grabbed the stack of worksheets, shot up to his feet and dashed away down the empty corridor, away from her.

Because if he stayed any longer, he might kiss her back, and that wouldn't solve his current problem.

It's remarkable the speeds that a person can attain when they really put their legs into running, even more so if they had a good reason for their hurry. In less than a minute, he was back inside the dorm building, breathless in the corridor as he tried to fit his key into his room door. Then after fitting it and turning it, he realized that the door had not been locked before and not he had just locked himself out. Smacking himself on the forehead and muttering curses, Jack twisted the key the other way and turned the knob, only to find his roommate standing in front of the door way with a boomerang raised overhead and bearing an extremely aggressive expression.

"Whoa!" Jack jumped back, raising his one free hand to guard his skull. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, it's just you." Bunny let out a sigh relief, lowering the boomerang. "I thought the watercooler apocalypse might be have started."

The tenseness in Jack's posture did not leave him. "The what-now?"

"Nevermind." The other boy shrugged before moving aside, letting his roommate enter the room. Jack still cast suspicious glances towards him every now and then while creeping over his side of the room. He dropped the stack of sheets on his table while Bunnymund replaced his boomerang on the shelf. The Australian student then dropped back into his own seat, asking, "What's all that?"

Jack gazed questioningly at him "Hmm?"

"That stack." Bunnymund pointed at the paper tower that stood at the edge of his desk. "What's all that?"

"Oh, just practice stuff," Jack lied, sliding into his seat with false casualness. Hoping that the rapid thumping of his heart wouldn't be noticed by his roommate, he went on, "To prep for finals, you know."

"Yes." Bunnymund was looking at him oddly.

Jack frowned. "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Actually, -" the other boy pointed towards the side of his mouth.

The white-haired lad rubbed a finger along the site indicated on his own face and found a light purple stain there. Lipstick. The thought of where it came from made him turn red while he furiously wiped the rest of the waxy substance off with his sleeve.

His behaviour was observed by the doubtful eyes of Bunnymund, who stared at him as if he had just grown a set of claws and fangs. Eventually though, the Australian boy grew bored of this occupation and returned this time not to paint his eggs, but actually bury his head in a magazine titled _'Kangaroos – Relatives of the Rabbit or Spies of Aliens? Also, Do Carrots Really Improve Eyesight or was that Invented by the Carrot Farming Corporation?'_

This left Jack with a bout of silence that would have been extremely helpful for his studying, or doing Hans' endless pile of undone homework, except that his brain could only think about one thing, and no, it wasn't Pythagoras Theorem.

Elsa kissed him. Sure, he didn't just sit there and take it either, but she definitely initiated it. And _she liked him_. She actually said that she liked him. It was like a dream come true. Except, well, for one teeny, tiny yet important detail.

Anna.

Jack let out a very long exhale as he set his head in hands. Anna liked him a lot – he knew that, because Anna held no secrets about her feelings. She treated their time together like it was sacred, laughing at all his jokes and tricks, dragging him off to eat foods that she knew he liked.

She'd be crushed if she'd ever knew what had happened. He had been the one to comfort her after her harsh break-up with Hans. In a way, she saw him as her knight-in-shining armour that had rescued her from an ugly relationship. which would make this infinitely worse.

He considered options. He could pretend that it never happened, of course, and if he did, Elsa probably would too. No one else was there, so no one else knew and there was no one else to tell Anna. Everything would be as it had been and he would take Anna to Prom and then he'll graduate and then…

…And then what? Would they continue dating? If he somehow managed to get into a college out of state, would they try some long-distance thing? Would they break up? Would they stay together?

The more he thought about these questions, the more he realised that he didn't want think about them at all. He didn't want to consider these possibilities, because very simply, he did not intend for them to happen.

It was clear that even before he had started thinking about this that he had made his decision. He knew what he had to do.

But Anna was a decent kid – more that than, she absolutely wonderful. She didn't deserve to be chucked in the bin like old news. No, she deserved to have it honest, straight from him.

Hans' homework and his own study materials were shoved to a side of the desk as he drew up a writing pad and began writing.

" _Anna, I suppose it's only fair to you-"_

~~~0~~~

Act 60: Where Our Hero Received Not One, but Two Slaps

"' _-that you know the truth. In the past few weeks, in which we have been sort-of -together'' –_ wait, you're actually going to say 'sort-of-together'? _"_ Kristoff sounded disapproving as he scrutinised the script. "What happens if all this while she thought that you guys were really 'together-together'? It might hurt her feelings."

"I'm trying to break up with her, Kristoff," Jack hissed, peering warily at the other students around them. Some of them had been shooting him dark looks throughout the morning and he wondered if they had heard the two of them talking. "This whole thing is going to hurt her feelings anyway."

"Yeah, but the least you can do is try to be nice about it," Kristoff urged, scanning down then next couple of lines and muttering them under his breath.

" _I am_ trying to be nice about it," the white-haired boy whispered fiercely, which earned him a scowl from a passing student, though Jack in truth had no idea who that girl was. "That's the only reason why I'm asking you to vet it!"

"' _I've never really liked you as much as you've liked me,'"_ Kristoff read from the sheet of paper. "Wow. Really twisting the knife there."

"Are you actually going to give any-" Jack cut himself off he pondered over the line, then said, "Yeah, let's scrap that line. She doesn't need to know that."

"Okay." Holding the sheet against his arm, Kristoff marked off the line with a pen, before reading the next part of the script. "' _But most importantly, I want you to know you are an amazing girl and any fella' who gets you is the luckiest man in the world. But that guy isn't going to be me. I've known that for a while and I suspect that you do too.'"_ The blonde boy paused for a moment before continuing. "' _I really hope that we can stay as friends, but if you don't want to, I don't blame you. I really wish you all the best, because if anyone deserves it, it's you._ Geez." He shook his head as he appraised the sheet of paper one last time. "This makes me feel like crying and it's not even addressed to me."

Jack nipped the sheet from his fingers and folded it up. "Trust me, if I didn't have to do this, I wouldn't. But-" he pursed his lips together for a moment "-she deserve to know the truth and that it's not her fault. It's the least I can do."

"Well, no time like the present." Kristoff clapped him on the shoulder and nodding ahead. There in the crowd a brunette with twin braids bobbed through the sea of heads, possibly moving towards her own classroom.

The white-haired senior student blanched. "Wait. Right now?"

"Well, better now than later. If you put it off, you might chicken out," Kristoff pointed out.

Despite himself, Jack conceded that the blonde junior boy had a point. It was like ripping off a bandage right? The quicker you did it, the quicker it'd be over.

"Wish me luck," he muttered to the junior student as he unfolded the script to take one last glance at him.

"Good luck, heartbreaker."

Jack gave him a withering look.

"What? It's true."

"I really need rethink our friendship," the white-haired boy put in pertly, before stepping forward and squeezing his way through the crowd. The constriction that had been attacking his chest since morning only worsened as he drew nearer and nearer to his target. Once or twice, he genuinely thought of backing out, but then he thought of the kiss (the second one, if that first peck was counted) and he knew that there was a part of his heart that he could never give her.

"Anna," he called for her through the crowd, but she kept walking on. It was pretty noisy though, so she probably didn't hear him.

He shoved past a couple of huddling students who all turned to glare at him. He wove his way past the cheer team, who taught it appropriate to practice their steps in the middle of the congested locker corridor. He managed to wriggle his way out of reach from the fundraisers trying to sell him cookies that he knew tasted disgusting. When he was right behind her, he grabbed her arm to get her to stop. "Anna, listen, I need to talk to-"

The girl swung straight around and he then noticed that she had a scowl on her face. Before he could inquire on what wrong, he felt a burning slap strike him across the cheek, causing him to gasp in astonishment. He could hear gasps echoing around the corridor as the students around him suddenly went silent and all eyes were glued on the two of them.

Massaging the red mark that had appeared his face and wincing at his smarting cheek, Jack asked, incredulous, "What was that for?"

"For being a two-faced, jerk-faced cad," Anna growled at him, her eyes burning with fury and her face countenance. Without warning, she struck him again on the same side and he cried out in shock to feel the dying sting once again. "And a liar. If you hated me so much, why didn't you just say so?"

"What?" Jack was stunned. "Anna, I don't hate you."

"Maybe not, but you don't like me much, do you?" she accused.

"What? No. I mean, well, er – where is all this coming from?"

"Stop pretending!" Anna grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down sharply so that he was at her height. "I already know what happened."

"You-" his thoughts were in turmoil. This was going rapidly turmoil. "How?"

" _Everyone_ in school knows, Jack," she barked at him, arms flailing wildly. Some of the onlookers started to feel a little uncomfortable hurriedly stepped away, but others spectators in want of a better view were more than happy to feel those gaps. Anna took no notice of them though, choosing to stare at him as if she was trying to make him to explode with her mind. "It's online. Someone uploaded it yesterday."

His heart sank. "It?"

"A short clip. Blurred, but clear enough to tell it's you." She folded her arms, corner of the lip downturned. "You and Elsa."

Yep, it has all gone south. His break-up speech was now completely useless. "Anna, let me explain-"

"That what, you still like my sister? I mean, I can understand that. She's _only_ a dozen times prettier and smarter than me." A harsh guttural note rose out of her throat, with each words soaked in bitterness. "What I don't get is that you still like her after all the times that she'd rejected you and snubbed you." Anna gesticulated wildly at him, disgust smeared on every inch of her mien. "What on Earth is _wrong with you_?"

He thought of saying something, some little defence to make him sound less stupid, but he caught the tears hidden in the corners of her eyes and his tongue was immediately knotted up and swallowed back. He stood stark still before Anna as she searched him through and through, shaking her head.

"I tried to make you happy with me," she said in a quieter tone, resentful still but marked too with confusion. "I let you do what you like, don't I? I try to be supportive and encouraging." Her voice thickened while she rubbed her finger against her wet eyes. "I let you be yourself. Why isn't that good enough?"

He wanted to explain it all. He wanted to rest a hand on her shoulder, to lead her to some place away from the busybodies, to sit her down and read out the speech that he had prepared for her – to let her understand how exactly he saw her.

But when Jack reached a hand out to her, Anna struck it away and told him "Don't."

So he didn't.

"And if it's not clear, I'm breaking up with you. Well, -" the girl made a scoffing sound a tear trickled down her cheek "-breaking up whatever-this-is, anyway. And you better remember that _I_ broke up with _you."_ She jabbed a finger at him as more tears tumbled down and her voice, though still forceful, was starting to shake. "This was _my_ choice. _Mine."_

Rubbing her cheek viciously against his sleeve, Anna tore herself away from him, determinedly diving into the crowd and disappearing. With the show over, the spectators' ring dispersed, but every third student would stop to shoot a disapproving look. Jack only wished that he could sink into the floor.

"Hey." Kristoff had emerged from the throng somehow and was now holding a box of raw carrots. He was holding one of those carrots and nibbling its tip. Clearly, he hadn't watch what happened, because he asked with a cheerful expression, "So, how did it go?"

Jack stared at him for a long while, before scrunching up the speech sheet into a ball and tossing it behind him. He then grabbed one of the carrots from the box and began munching furiously on it.

Kristoff watched him with raised brows, then said pityingly, "You sad white-haired man."

~~~0~~~

 **Well, that's a bummer, ain't it? Poor Jack.**

 **Guest Review Mailbox:**

 **Guest (Jan 17): I'm glad I wrote in the gown chase part. I almost wanted to cut it out, but heck - it's hilarious. I'm glad you like the odd style of writing in this story, because I do enjoy writing it that way. It's ridiculously freeing to break all conventions when narrating a tale (that, and I do still think this story is kind of silly.)**

 **I think I'm going to focus a while on this story. The end is in sight, so if I get this done, I can finally turn my attention to my longer stories. Also, time is getting increasing limited due to a little…hiccup in my studies that requires me to spend more time with it. Well, life is life. I can't be sorry about it.**

 **Leave if a review if you like. Cheers and cheerio!**


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